Ex Machina
by justRoman
Summary: AU. The year is 2008. Cameron never showed up in 1999. Sarah died of cancer in 2003. John continues his life, believing that Judgment Day was prevented. But he's mistaken. (I don't own any rights. This story is meant solely for entertainment purposes. It contains J/C stuff, strong language, some violence, and elements from a movies. Thank you for stopping by.)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N:_

_Hello my friends! Okay, this is my first attempt in a FanFiction._ _As I've already indicated in the synopsis, this is the __**Alternative Universe**__, so everything is possible. Also, my characters are __**OOC**__, obviously. Anyway, tell me what you think about the story: is it good, bad, interesting, boring,_ _funny, ridiculous or whatever. Peace._

**_WARNING! English is not my native language, _****_and I'm not from USA_****_._**

* * *

><p><strong>Ex Machina<strong>

**Chapter One. A New Friend**

**Los Angeles, CA. February 28, 2008.**** 10:19 PM**

The yellow late-sixties Mustang pulled into the bar's nearly empty parking lot, the rumble of its glasspiped exhaust cutting off abruptly as its driver keyed off and opened the door. The driver was much younger than the car he drove, possibly twenty-five. He was tall, about five-eleven, and athletic, with short dark hair and emerald eyes that swept the lot as if for possible threats before he locked up and headed inside.

The inside of the bar was as empty as the parking lot: only a couple tables were occupied. Three patrons filled seats at the bar, two watching TV and the third head-down on the bar, softly snoring. The young man chose his seat with care, close to the door and facing it, and as far from the other patrons as possible. _Old habits die hard_, he thought ruefully.

The man behind the bar, a fellow with a bushy gray mustache that matched his hair, eyed him, as if waiting for him to come to the bar, then came around to stand at his table.

"What can I get for you fella?"

"Whatever you've got on tap," he said.

"Sure. ID?"

The man shifted to reach his back pocket, and froze as he realized he wasn't sitting on his wallet.

The barkeep scowled. "Let me guess, left it at home?"

"Yes and no," the man said. It was sort of the truth, since his car seemed more like home than his apartment, and the jacket containing his wallet was on the seat.

The bartender glanced at one of the other occupied tables. "I've had this bar for twenty-five years, sonny. I'm not gonna lose my license serving a minor in front of an undercover cop."

The man pushed his chair back from the table. "It's in my car. I'll be right back."

He paused at the car with his key in the lock. _Never get caught without ID. It was one of the first things Mom taught me, practically tattooed it to the inside of my eyelids. First time for everything, I guess._ He opened the door, and had his hand on his jacket when he heard the scream from around the corner.

"HELP! Please, somebody help-"

His left hand snapped up into the hidden space under the dash above the steering column and came back down with a loaded H&K P2000. He drew the jacket over his forearm, concealing the weapon, and, closing the door quietly, rounded the building.

In the shadow of the building, two rough-looking men were struggling with a young woman pinned between them. The one behind her was holding her, one meaty paw clamping her wrists at the small of her back, the other over her mouth. Her eyes were huge with terror. She squirmed and whimpered as the second man worked at her belt buckle.

"Settle down," the rapist said as the buckle came free. He squeezed the girl's thigh and tugged at the button of her jeans, popping it off. "Just relax and enjoy it." He opened the zipper and knelt to pull her jeans down.

"_Don't be a hero,_" his mother would say. "_Don't stand out. Don't risk being noticed. You have to let things go."_

_I'm sorry Mom, but I can't let this happen. _He felt a cold stillness settle over his face, hiding the anger. He moved closer. "Oi pricks!"

All three stopped. The one trying to pull off the girl's pants turned his head to look at him. The girl's eyes brightened, possibly with hope, but there seemed to be something more. Or maybe it was a faint reflection of the parking-lot lights that gave them a momentary bluish glow. The creep kneeling in front of her stood, hiding her behind his bulk, and turned toward him.

The attacker reached into his pocket and came out with a butterfly knife; he flipped it open, exposing the three-inch blade, and stepped toward him. "Don't be a hero. It's a good way to get hurt. If I was in your shoes, I'd forget it and walk on by." He stopped when he got close enough for a good look at the man's face, and the jacket-covered arm pointed at him.

"I'm not a hero," the man said, "just the right guy in the right place at the right time. And you're never gonna be in my shoes." He drew back the jacket to reveal the nine-millimeter. "How about you walk on by instead?"

The assailant's cockiness faded away as he studied the man's face, gauging his resolve. The man stared back. "Let her go," he said, "and get the hell out of here now. Or somebody is gonna get hurt."

The creep glanced back at his companion, who shook his head. He carefully folded his knife and returned it to his pocket. Then he raised his hands shoulder high and backed toward his partner, his eyes never leaving the armed man's face. "No harm no foul, man." The partner released the girl, who slumped against the wall of the building, and the two men carefully turned and walked briskly away. "Bet she's gonna be real grateful. Have fun."

The man watched them, gun raised and steady, until they were out of sight, then turned to the girl, who was trying with trembling fingers to buckle her belt over her vandalized and slightly gaping pants. He looked her over for the first time in the uncertain light. She was younger than he, early twenties maybe, and pretty, with big brown eyes and long chestnut hair. She was dressed light for a February in L.A.; in just a pair of tight black jeans, which were tucked into a black boots, and an overlong tee shirt, striped horizontally in green and black.

She shivered, whether from cold or shock he couldn't say. He stepped closer, watching her eyes, which rose to meet his. Unsure how she might react to the touch of a man right now, he gently put a hand on her shoulder. Using the soft voice he asked, "Are you okay?"

She stared up at the young man who had 'rescued' her.

_-What should I say?_

In her mind, a voice very like her own answered_._

-_Well, I suppose you could tell him you're operating at ninety-six percent efficiency. I'm sure he'd be impressed._

_-Okay._ She opened her mouth.

_-NOOO! That was sarcasm._

_-I know._ _I fooled you again._

_-Here's what you do…_

The girl stared silently at him for so long, he thought she wasn't going to answer. Then her eyes misted and she lunged at him, taking him back a step. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his shoulder. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

_Whoa_, he thought, _good grip_. _And I was wondering if she'd be afraid of a man's touch_. He pressed his left forearm against the small of her back, returning her embrace but keeping the gun away from her. He rubbed between her shoulder blades with his other hand, trying to soothe and warm the still-shivering girl. "Shhh, shhh. Everything's fine. Nobody's gonna hurt you while I'm here."

_-Impressive. I didn't expect much from you._

_-My tear ducts are overloading. I have to purge them._

_-So don't hold back. It's okay now._

The girl's eyes gushed, wetting his shirt. Her breath hitched, sobbing. He held her silently until she stilled. She took a deep breath and said, still into his shoulder, "You saved my life, I think." She gave him a squeeze. "I guess that makes you my hero."

–_Aww, how sweet._

_–Shush! Don't distract._

Her words warmed him, and he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. _'You saved my life. You're my hero.' Maybe being the future savior of the human race isn't such a bad gig after all. _He held her a little longer, until he began to wonder if they might stand here in the dark all night. He loosened his grip. The girl sensed his intent and backed up, hands trailing all the way around him before she let go. He saw that her cheeks were wet and smudged from her makeup, and without thought brushed his thumb across them.

"Thank you," she said, almost in a whisper.

_-This is the fourth time._ _If you lay it on too thick, he'll get suspicious._ _Hell, you aren't the smartest learning computer, you're retar..._

_-Get lost!_

He smiled again, "You are welcome. I'm John, by the way."

The girl smiled in return, "Cameron."

_-And I'm Allison._

_-He shouldn't know now._

_-Unfortunately, you're right._

"Nice to meet you Cameron, given the circumstances," John said with a sad smile.

"You too. But I'm satisfied-" she stopped.

_-He didn't mean the war, or how you met him for the first time, or other stuff, Cameron. He just said that he would prefer to meet you on the street, in a club, or wherever._

_-Oh, thank you for explaining._

Seconds after, Cameron continued, "I mean ... Today is a good day ..." She shrugged her shoulders and giggled softly.

_Okaaay… _John smiled to cover his confusion. "Well, if you call this a good day, how do you describe a day when you're having fun, or just relaxing?"

The smile on the girl's face disappeared, "Nothing." Cameron hung her head and added in a whisper, "I have no such days."

_-Well-Played, actress._

_-I didn't play! It's true and you know it._

John's smile slowly faded away and he began to look for a solution in his head_._ _Idiot. But how was I supposed to know? Come on, man. You're Connor, the future leader of the human resistance against the machines, right? What, can't cope with a single girl, huh? With such a fragile, beautiful ... Damn it! _

"Maybe I should take you somewhere?" _Like a hospital, or a police station. _

She glanced at the wall, as if seeing through it into the bar. "Right here is okay."

John blinked_._ _She just escaped being raped and killed by blind luck, and now she's offering me a date?_ "Uh, are you sure?"

_-Taking him to a bar, Cameron? Really?_

–_Yes, Allison, really. I need to socialize with him, don't I? It's the closest suitable place. Perfectly logical._

_-Logic doesn't always win. Don't forget, you have feelings._

_-I never forget_ _anything._

_-Yeah, and that's your biggest problem._

"Yes, I'm sure. Shall we?" Cameron asked, and took John under his left arm.

"Well, okay." John turned and led her to the entrance. He opened the door and pointed out a gestured with his right hand. "Ladies first." Cameron smiled and walked into the bar. John took a moment and hid his gun in his waistband at the small of his back, and dropped the back of his shirt over it. Adjusting shirt, he put on his black leather jacket and went after the girl.

Once inside, Cameron paused and looked around her environment and found no threats.

_-Old habits die hard, I guess?_

_-John's safety is always the primary goal._

_-But what about you?_

_-I'm just a machine. My existence has no value._

_-CAMERON!_

_-Okay. Maybe a little._

_-A little? How dare ... You know, I'm done with this conversation. You're just as stubborn as John. You two are a great couple._

_-Thank you._

_-It's not meant to be a compliment!_

_-I know._

Inside, the only change was the program on the TV. The girl's scream hadn't penetrated the wall of the bar, apparently. John led Cameron to his table and pulled out a chair for her.

_-Cameron, you need the restroom._

_-Why?_

_-As soon as you see yourself in the mirror, you'll know._

"Please excuse me. I need to find the restroom," and with it, Cameron turned and headed to the restroom area. John watched her go, and sat. A few seconds later he heard a familiar voice, on the right.

"Jeez, how far away did you park your car?" The barkeep was back at his side.

John felt an unfocused resentment_._ _If I hadn't left my jacket in the car, there'd be a corpse in the alley next to your building right now, and your lot would be taped off by the police come morning._

_On the other hand, if you hadn't been a stickler for the rules and just poured me a beer…_ John reached into his jacket for his wallet. "Met a friend."

"Saw her come in." The man glanced at John's ID, and his eyebrows rose slightly. John tensed, but the man only said, "Well, Mr. Conrad, do you still want that draft?"

"You carry Carlsberg?"

"What kind of bar do you think this is?" The gray-haired man smiled. "Lucky for you a couple regulars are Russian expats. What about your girl?"

Cameron looked old enough to drink, but he didn't know what she liked, or if she drank at all. Besides, it didn't look like she was carrying ID; her jeans were so tight he didn't think she could fit a driver's license in the pocket without it printing. "Just water."

The man nodded and moved away. Half a minute later, he returned with a tray. He laid four coasters on the table and set glasses on two of them. From a dewy green bottle, he poured a pale yellow liquid, and then set the bottle on an empty coaster. Then he twisted the cap off a clear bottle of 'Dasani' and poured the contents into the other glass. Last, he produced a basket of peanuts and set it in the middle of the little table. "On the house." He left.

_Nice._ "Thanks," said John, took his glass, and made the first, but a big gulp. He closed his eyes and said to himself, _Mmm ... I think Cameron doesn't mind... CAMERON! Poor girl, hope she'll be okay. She seems a bit odd, like-_

"John?"

John shuddered, opened his eyes and saw the object of his thoughts, sitting in front of him. She'd washed up, and looked amazing even without makeup. Cameron tilted her head slightly, a look of childish curiosity written on her face.

"Sorry, zoned out." _No one's been able to sneak up on me._ He put the glass down on the table and added with a smile, "You know, you kind of startled me."

Cameron straightened and quickly shook her head, something like anxiety written on her face, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, I'm fine. Don't worry," John said soothingly. "I don't know what you like, so I ordered just the water for you.

"Thank you," Cameron took the glass, made a few sips, and then put it back. "I appreciate it," she added with a small smile.

"No problem," John returned the smile. _Okay, I guess it's time for a heart conversation._ "So, what's your story?"

"My Story?"

_-He means..._

"I mean, how it happened, that you end up in a dark alley with two punks, and almost ... You know," John said, but quickly added, "Of course, if you don't mind talking about it."

"Oh, thank you for explaining," Cameron replied with a sweet smile. "And no, I don't mind."

_'Thank you for explaining'. That's so cute. So's her smile._ He took another gulp of his Carlsberg. _What am I thinking? I'm gonna hit on her twenty minutes after she was nearly raped and killed? But she seems completely over it already, like it never happened. So strange._

Cameron seemed to gather herself. "I'm from a little town in Northern California. I'm sure you've never heard of it. My mother died when I was born. When I was about four years old, my father went crazy, and I moved in with my mother's brother. After graduation, I worked as a waitress, because we had no money for college. After my eighteenth birthday, my uncle was killed in a car crash, and I was all alone. I decided that I didn't want to stay in my hometown. I saved enough money for bus fare and a couple months' rent and came to Los Angeles."

"Why LA?"

"It's as different from home as I could imagine." She grinned. "And I thought maybe if I was lucky, some movie guy would discover me and I could become an actress." The grin faded. "I was only off the bus for fifteen minutes before I got in trouble. Everything around the bus station was closed this time of night, and there were no cabs, so I started walking. I noticed this bar and thought I'd ask directions to the nearest hotel. I never got inside. They jumped me in the parking lot, dragged me into the alley. They took all my money, my ID, even my favorite purple leather jacket. Everything." She looked down. "Well, not everything. Thanks to you."

_-Not bad._

_-Thank you._

John looked at the table between them. "I'm sorry about your family. I know what that's like."

Cameron shifted her gaze on him. After a moment, their eyes met, and John saw Cameron looking at him expectantly. He asked, "Don't you have anybody else?"

"I don't have relatives or friends. I'm completely alone."

_-Hey! What about me?_

_-You don't count._

_-Oh screw you Cameron!_

"Just like me," John said with a sad smile. He glanced around the bar, looking for something else to talk about, and saw a dartboard on the far wall. "Care for a game of darts?"

_-Darts?_

_-Working...There._

On Cameron's HUD appeared rules of the game. After a few seconds she said, "I've never played before, but I know the basics and rules."

"Want to try? Say, one set?"

"With pleasure."

They approached the target, and John took out six darts. He turned and gave Cameron three of them. "Ladies first," John semi-smiled. Cameron responded equivalently and turned to the target. She calculated the angle, force throw, and sent first dart straight in tripling of twenty. Next two joined to the first one. After twelve minutes the set had been completed. After the victorious throw, Cameron turned to face John with smug grin.

"Three out of three. Are you sure, you want to be an actress? I mean, you should go to the World Darts Championship or something," John said with a chuckle.

"Beginner's luck."

They returned to their seats. John immediately took a swig of his drink, Cameron followed suit.

"Listen," John said. "You still need a place to stay tonight, right?"

_-Allison, why_ _are_ _his pupils widening? And his breathing_ _becoming_ _ragged?_ _Is he angry?_

_-Wait for it._

Cameron nodded and replied, "That's right."

"Well ... Uh ... I don't mind ... I mean ... If you want to ... You can stay … With me ..." John said haltingly_._ _Jesus Christ. Connor, that was SO lame._

Cameron's look of curiosity was instantly replaced by joy and happiness. She smiled broadly and loudly exclaimed, "YES, THANK YOU!" She stood, rounded the table, and bent over him, then wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and deeply kissed John on the lips.

_-What the hell are you doing, Cameron!?_

_-John Connor just gave me permission to live with him under the same roof. This means he loves me. Therefore, I can kiss..._

_-WHAT!? No, it doesn't mean shit! He just offered you a safe place to spend the night. You can't just kiss people whom you barely know._

_-But I know him! This is John Connor, the future leader..._

_-Aargh…never mind. Just stop it and quickly come up with an excuse._

John's eyes widened from surprise. He instantly stiffened and froze. _WHAT. THE. FUNK? She knows what she's doing? Certainly knows, but why? Maybe it has something to do with the shock she recently experienced? But damn! Her lips are so soft and sweet. Nobody can long resist such a temptation, even the future savior of mankind. Please, Cameron..._

Cameron, as if reading his mind, immediately pulled away and looked down guiltily. A small blush appeared on her cheeks. "Sorry. Shouldn't have done that. My emotions are kind of out of control right now, I guess."

John stood up to reassure her, but blurted out, "It's all right. I don't mind." Cameron looked at him with mischief in her eyes and the corners of her mouth. "That's ... I mean ..." It was John's turn to blush slightly. He quickly raised his glass and finished his beer. "Check, please!"

From the bar, the owner said, "Told you, it's on the house. Happy birthday, sonny." He gave Cameron a quick smile. "Your friend cleans up pretty good."

One of the patrons at the bar turned to regard the couple. The smile he gave Cameron was almost a leer. "Maybe yours ain't the last present he's getting, Scotty."

The barkeep slapped him in the back of the head. "You wanna get cut off? Just open your mouth again before they leave."

"Sorry, sorry." The man returned his attention to the TV.

John slowly turned his gaze to Cameron and saw her smiling. She asked with curiosity, "Today is your Birthday?"

"Hmm… Yeah." _Please don't kiss me again, because I won't have the will to resist._

_-Don't you dare._

_-Don't worry, I won't._

Cameron just hugged him. "Happy Birthday John!" and quickly released.

_Yeah, as if life isn't tragic enough._ With a wry smile he replied, "Thanks. I think it's time to go."

Cameron nodded and headed for the exit. John grabbed a handful of peanuts from the table and followed her. Coming out of the bar, he asked, "Are you cold? I can give you my jacket."

"No, I'm fine", she responded with small smile. The smile vanished when she added, "Like I said, I had my own purple leather jacket, but those, as you called them, punks, completely ripped and ruined it. But thank you for asking."

John nodded and walked over to the passenger seat. Opening the door, he invited Cameron inside. She stopped right in front of him.

_-He's such a gentleman._

_-Yes, nothing to do with the Future John._

"John, if you don't mind, I would suggest that is better for me to drive the car, since you drank a beer. Just one bottle, but nonetheless. Better safe than sorry."

"Are you sure that you're able to drive a car? I mean, after today's turmoil, will you be able to handle with Eleanor?"

Cameron frowned, "Eleanor?"

John chuckled and pointed his thumb to the car, "My Shelby GT500 aka Eleanor."

"Yes, I can. But why do you call your car Eleanor?"

_-Why your name is Cameron?_

_-But this is different. I am a person. As you are._

_-No, I just miscalculation, that SkyNet..._

_-__Allison!_

_-Okay, okay._

John smiled, reached into his pocket and handed her the keys. "Tell you later," with this he got into the car and closed the door. Cameron walked around the car and slid behind the wheel. She put the key in the ignition and started the car. Old mustang showed that she still has all her might and power, despite age, and loudly roared.

Cameron's eyes widened as she smiled and turned toward John, "I like Eleanor." John grinned back. Cameron added, "You better buckle up. As I said, better safe than sorry."

Grin on his face was replaced by feigned irritation. _Okay mom, Jeez._ Cameron clipped her seat belt, John followed her example, and spoke, "Okay, tonight I'm the navigator." Cameron nodded slightly and buried the pedal to the floor. With a scream of tires, the muscle car darted off, leaving behind a cloud of white smoke, and was almost immediately breaking sixty.

"Whoa Cameron! Easy. Back it down. There is no need to rush." _And no need to be tearing down an empty city street at twice the legal limit, in a car you can hear coming from five blocks away at a time when every cop in the area is looking for reckless operators stumbling home from the bars._

"Sorry. I just liked the sound of the engine."

He smiled warmly and nodded. They drove for about ten minutes in silence. John was deep in thought. Cameron decided to speak.

"So, why Eleanor?"

"Uh? Oh right. Well, apparently you haven't watched the movie 'Gone in Sixty Seconds', with Cage in the lead role?"

Cameron shook her head, "No."

John quickly told the plot of the movie, "And the last car that he needs to steal was a Shelby Mustang '67. Eleanor. Not a bad movie, although, I much more prefer the original one, which was filmed in 1974. In any case, after I watched it, I literally fell in love with Eleanor. But, I had to wait a long time, before I found this baby and bought her for forty-two grand. Good condition, only need to repaint and other trifles. But hey, I'm working on it," John grinned.

Cameron looked at John and smiled, "Thank you for explaining." Then she focused back on driving.

_Again, this lovely smile and cute phrase. She's so innocent and mysterious, but at the same time careful and caring. I like it. I like_ _**her**__._

A few more minutes of silence, but this time John decided to break it. Looking through the windshield ahead, he spoke.

"You know, my father died in the war before I was born. He was a hero. Then, July third, two thousand and three, I lost my mother. Leukemia. She was a strong woman. Real fighter. But even she couldn't beat a cancer. And I couldn't do anything about it. Since then I've been on my own." With a sigh he added, "At least we have something in common. Although, if I were you, I would run as far as possible."

They stopped at the traffic light. Cameron took the opportunity and looked at him with a sad expression, "I'm sorry for your loss. But life goes on." She shook her head with a half-smile, "And death doesn't scare me." Finally, her smile widened and reached her eyes, "Plus, you look like a decent guy."

John looked at her and returned the smile, "Thanks. Yeah, I know. I mean, everything has the end, right? So I just need to get over it." He checked the surroundings and added, "By the way, we're almost on spot. At the next turn go right, then two hundred yards and right again, straight into the underground parking."

After seven minutes, they were in place. Cameron killed the engine and handed the keys to John. They got out of the car and headed to the elevator at the far wall. Climbed up to the second floor, they came to the apartment with a sign '_Four'_. John opened the door and again used the 'ladies first' thing.

Cameron came in and looked around. The apartment was small and plain. Average living room with comfortable-looking sofa. Moderate flat screen TV on the wall opposite it. Small kitchen, with a neat table and two chairs, and everything you need. And just two doors, one of which, apparently, was the bathroom, and another one, the bedroom.

John closed the door behind and announced, "Home, sweet home."

Cameron turned to face him, "Small but cozy. I like it."

John smiled and nodded his head, "Look, it's been a hard and a long day, so if you don't mind, I'll take a shower and go straight to the bed. On the sofa, I mean. So, be my guest."

"No, I can't allow you that. I'll take the couch. Today is your Birthday." John opened his mouth to argue, but Cameron quickly interrupted him, "Please. I insist."

He stood with an open mouth for a few seconds, and then finally said, "Are you sure? Because I still think it's not right..."

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me," Cameron assured him with a small smile.

John sighed and said, "Okay." With that, he went to his bedroom. Inside, he took off his jacket and folded it neatly on the chair. He took out his H&K P2000, and hid it under the pillow. Going to the closet he took a clean black tee shirt, with pair boxer briefs of the same color, and slightly baggy grey sweatpants. He headed to the bathroom, but after he opened the bedroom door, he literally jumped back. Cameron stood in the doorway, right in front of him.

"HOLY SHIT!" He swallowed hard. "You scared me to death. Please, don't do that."

"I'm sorry, John. I didn't-"

"It's all right. You want something?"

"Yes. Do you have an extra blanket and pillow?"

_Right, how I forgot._ John went to the bed, grabbed one of the two pillows and returned to Cameron, "Here. There's a blanket on the couch."

"Thank you."

Cameron walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. John entered to the bathroom.

_-I also need a shower. Allison, do you think this would be acceptable, if I joined to him?_

_-Are you fucking kidding me? Of course not!_ _You'll freak him out._

_-…_

_-__Cameron, wait your turn._

_-…_

_-CAMERON!_

_-Fine._

Approximately ten minutes later John came out, dressed in clean clothes, and feeling himself fresher than before. Cameron immediately got up from her seat on the couch and walked over to him.

"John, can I ask you something?"

He swallowed and said, "Of course. What do you want?"

"I need a shower too. Could I borrow something to wear?"

"No problem. Be right back."

John entered his room, went to the closet and pulled out a crystal white tee shirt and black sweat pants. Also he decided that a clean towel wouldn't hurt. Returning to the living room, he handed them to Cameron.

"Thank you John. Goodnight," Cameron leaned over and kissed him on the left cheek. Then she smiled and headed into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her. John stood for a few seconds, staring blankly at the door.

"Goodnight, Cameron," he pulled himself together, shook his head and went into his bedroom. Closing the door, he plopped down on the bed.

He listened to the hiss of the shower and tiny splashing sounds, and swallowed as he imagined Cameron, her hair soaked, turning naked under the showerhead.

_Best. Birthday. Ever._ He fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC...<strong>

_Just to be clear - Allison has NO power over Cameron._

_The cover image belongs to MikEvil._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N:_

_Hey guys, it's good to be back! Okay, the good news is I've found a beta reader who agreed to help me (but the story may still contain some errors, since I have a tendency to add some new lines, even after all the chapters have been posted, without giving my beta to check it.), which also means the first chapter has been fixed and updated. Please, don't forget to leave a review or something, it helps. Peace._

_**Thanks a lot **__**Thescarredman for your help.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter Two. A New Life<strong>

**Connor's apartment, **Los Angeles, CA**. February 29, 2008. 4:04 AM**

Cameron got up from the couch and stepped quietly to the door of John's bedroom. She had been certain that she would find John fast asleep in his room, but when she carefully turned the knob and looked inside, she found John turning restlessly from side to side in bed. His breathing was irregular, pulse increased, sweat glistening on his face, and murmuring quietly.

_-John is having a nightmare._

_-Or maybe a wet dream about the girl he just met._

_-What is a wet dream?_

_-Never mind. Remember why you're here._

_-To prote…_

_-No, in his bedroom!_

_-Oh, right._

Cameron walked over to the bedside table and took John's cell phone. She entered the phone book and flipped through the names until she found _El Finito_. Cameron memorized the number and put the phone back. John suddenly spoke up, his voice agitated.

"No! Please, don't hurt her. Cameron..."

_-He's having a nightmare, and I'm in it. This isn't good._

_-No shit, Sherlock. What you gonna do?_

_-Why are you… oh, I get it. You're __joking __about something being so obvious. I'll try to calm him down._

_-Are you sure that's a good idea?_

_-Not really, but I have to protect John Connor. Any way I can._

As carefully and quietly as possible, Cameron lay down next to John, trying not to wake him up. Gently, she hugged him from behind. He rolled onto his back, his body trembling slightly. Cameron leaned over his right ear, and whispered reassuringly.

"Shh, John. Everything's alright. I'm here. Nobody's going to hurt you," she murmured, echoing the words he'd said to her earlier. "Please, calm down."

As if by magic, a few seconds later, John visibly relaxed. His body stopped shaking, his breathing steadied and his pulse settled. Suddenly, he spoke, still dreaming, "Cameron?"

"Yes John, it's…"

"Cameron, don't go. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, and touched her lips to his forehead.

He mumbled something, and then added, "I love you."

Cameron smiled broadly and said, even more softly, "I love you too, John." She brushed her lips against his cheek and closed her eyes as she laid her head on his chest, listening to the beat of his powerful heart.

_-Uh ... Cameron?_

_-Yes, Allison?_

_-You know, it doesn't count._

_-What doesn't count?_

_-John saying he loves you. He was only dreaming._

_-We'll see __in the morning._

* * *

><p><em>John struggled in the grip of a nightmare. It was the same dream he'd had for a thousand nights, but this time it was different. As always, the liquid-metal Terminator, the T-1000, was pursuing him through the steel mill. Not a memory: in his dream, he was full-grown, with neither Uncle Bob nor his mother to save him. He ran, hid, ran some more, looking for the way out he somehow knew he'd never find. Always, he heard its step nearby, or glimpsed it from hiding, searching for him.<em>

_Always before, it had gotten closer and closer until he felt its hand clamp on his wrist or shoulder and he woke gasping and drenched in sweat. But this time, it kept passing him by, closing on him less and less frequently, until he began to dare think he was losing it, and he might get out of the building alive._

_He was on the high steel catwalk. The door to the outside lay before him with nothing between. He was moving quickly toward it, triumph rising in his heart, when he heard a woman's scream._

_He spun, heart hammering. The machine, in its cop disguise, stood twenty yards behind him on the catwalk, the molten steel beneath lighting its face eerily. It held Cameron in front of it, one hand pinning her against it. The other hand was morphed into a sword blade, its edge pressed under her chin._

_"Come to me," it said._

_John's feet seemed bolted to the floor. "No. Please, don't hurt her! Cameron…"_

_The sword arm jerked upward an inch. Cameron gasped as blood flowed over the blade. "Come here, or I'll kill her."_

_Knowing that it didn't matter, that it would kill them both as soon as he was within its reach, John still placed one foot in front of the other, then another, almost sleepwalking towards his death._

_Impossibly, Cameron suddenly knocked the cyborg killer's arm aside, spun, and pushed it stumbling back. Before it could recover, she produced a small object and dropped it under its feet. The catwalk under it disappeared in the white-hot flash of a thermite explosion, and the machine fell into the molten steel below._

_Cameron turned back to John, a look of satisfaction on her features. She saw him looking at her, and her face smoothed to a doll's mask. Three backward steps took her to the glowing rim of the hole in the catwalk._

_Beneath the deep cut under her chin, silvery metal gleamed._

_Frightened and uncertain, John said, "Cameron?"_

_"My mission is over," she said, her eyes fixed blankly on him. "You know what happens next."_

_The weights dropped from his feet, and he rushed toward her. "Cameron, don't go. Please."_

_She shook her head, but she didn't take the final step back that would have dropped her through the hole. "I have to. I'm sorry." She watched him, as if waiting for him to come to her._

_Something about the scene seemed very wrong, but there was no time to figure it out. John closed until he was just out of reach; something told him that touching her while she was close to the edge would be catastrophic. The shock and weakness from the adrenaline leaving his body finally overcame him, and he fell to his knees._

_"Don't leave me," he murmured looking at the floor, and then added louder, so she could hear and understand, "I love you."_

_For what seemed like an eternity, the girl stared down at him, then a Mona Lisa smile touched her lips, and she stepped away from the hole to take his hands and bring him to his feet. Her arms circled him, and she said softly, "I love you too, John."_

* * *

><p>In the morning, John awoke to the familiar sound of alarm clock. With eyes closed, on the third attempt he succeeded in finding the source of annoying sound, and turned it off. Then he froze. Something warm lay snugly against him and across him. He opened his eyes and saw Cameron's head pillowed on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing. John smiled at the sight, and gently stroked her perfectly soft hair. Cameron opened her eyes, lifting her head to smile at him. "Good morning, John."<p>

"Morning. What are you doing here? In my bed, I mean."

"Just returning your favor. You were having a really bad dream. But you calmed down once I got in bed with you and talked you down. You don't mind?"

John smiled sheepishly, "Not at all. Thank you."

She stared into his eyes. "Do you remember any of it?"

John's blood turned to ice. _Yeah, I remember perfectly. You were there, and not as a human, but as a terminator._ _Still, I said that I love you. God help me._ "A little. Why?"

"You talked in your sleep. Do you remember saying you love me?"

_Crap! Great job, Mr. 'I like babbling in a dream'._ He sighed heavily and began to make excuses, "Cameron, I'm so sorry. I-"

"Why? I'm not."

John felt heat on his face and ears. "Really?"

"Really. But I need to know if it's true, or just a dream. Because I'm sure I'm falling in love with you."

_-Cameron! You…_

_-Not a word._

John's heart revved up like Eleanor's engine. "Cameron … You're a wonderful girl, but … We only just met. I hardly know you. But … I'm sure I could."

He searched her face, and saw that his cautious answer had hurt her. _Damn it! What's the matter with you Connor? How can you lie here, with this girl, in your arms, and tell her that you might maybe love her someday? Do something to reassure her. _But he couldn't say anything more. Instead, he just kissed her deeply on the lips.

The result was like flipping a switch – or pulling a trigger. Instantly she was full atop him, legs astraddle, mouth locked to his. His reserve disappeared, and he pulled her tight against him. Their tongues met, caressed, wrestled. John's hands began to wander over her back, so Cameron decided it was a sign to move on.

With her face and body still pressed tightly to his, she rolled away, taking him with her, until their positions were reversed and she was under him. She gently took his hands in hers, slowly guiding them up under her shirt, over her toned stomach, to her goal. Cameron squeezed his palms and moaned with pleasure.

_-Cameron, you're rushing into things here._

_-Shut up!_

John realized what just happened. Once his palms touched Cameron's soft breasts, he reached point of no return. The border, which he gladly would like to crossed. But not right now. He abruptly broke off the kiss and removed his hands.

"What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

"No-"

"I'm not good enough for you?"

"WHAT!? No, you-"

Terrified, Cameron asked with shaky voice, afraid to hear a positive response, "You don't want to love me?" Her eyes filled with the moisture. It was obvious that she was on the verge of tears. John's heart ached at the sight of her. He cupped Cameron's face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead.

"Cameron, please, listen to me without an interrupting, okay?" She nodded. "You're gorgeous. Your body is perfect, your eyes are so beautiful, and your smile is ... stunningly breathtaking. I've never met such a handsome girl like you. And I want you, so bad. But if we continue, I'll be late for work, and most likely I would be fired."

Cameron smiled slightly, and just nodded, so John continued, "As for the love. Well… Love is a very special thing. And it's definitely new to me. Do I feel something about you, romantically? Absolutely. I really like you."

Cameron blinked and a single tear rolled down from her left eye. John wiped it with his thumb, "Please, don't cry. I'm sorry, if this isn't the answer that you were waiting for. What do you say if we let things go with the flow?"

This time, John was welcomed by the lovely smile and cute phrase, "Thank you for explaining." After a second or two, Cameron added, "Okay, let things go with the flow."

_She purposely repeats that phrase? _"You're welcome. Now excuse me, I need a shower." _Very cold shower and as soon as possible._

John got out of bed and went to the closet for the fresh clothes. He also grabbed a clean towel and headed for the bathroom. Cameron followed. In the living room she stopped him.

"John, you don't mind, if I make you some breakfast?"

"I'm afraid that because of our little 'distraction', I don't have time for it."

"Please, breakfast is the most important meal."

"Okay. Thanks. Eggs and bacon would be fine. And black coffee, please," and with that he disappeared into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later John came out and went to his room. Inside, he dressed, picked up his cell phone from the bedside table, took the H&K P2000 from under the pillow, and tucked it behind waist, under his shirt. He grabbed his leather jacket and headed to the kitchen. He saw Cameron, who was sitting at the set table, apparently waiting for him to start eating. John joined her. He picked up his fork, cut off a piece and sent it to his mouth. He slowly chewed, then swallowed, and exclaimed.

"Yummy! Cameron, this is the best scrambled eggs that I ever ate in my entire life!"

"Thank you," Cameron replied with a proud smile. They continued to talk during breakfast.

"So, what are you planning to do today?"

"Well, after you go to work, I thought to wash the dishes, do laundry, and then go and deal with my lost ID."

"You know, you owe me nothing."

_-Actually, you owe him everything._

_-I know it Allison. But …_

_-Yeah, yeah._ _You can't tell him right now. Because if you do, it'll ruin your little paradise._

"Yes, but it's the least I can do for you."

John merely nodded. He reached into his pocket and took out a wallet. Then, he took a credit card and put it on the table.

"Take it. Why don't you go to the mall? Buy yourself a few new things. Maybe even a new purple leather jacket?" said John with a wink.

_-Yippee, shopping!_

_-Why are you so excited about it?_

_-Because it'll be fun._

_-No, it won't. Not without John._

_-What about me?_

_-You talk too much._

_-What a bitch!_

"Thank you John. I appreciate that. I promise not to spend too much."

"It's all right. And since today is Friday, maybe we can go somewhere tonight? Dinner, for example?"

"You're inviting me on a date?"

"Well…uh…"

"With pleasure."

"Great! I finish at five. I'll go home and change, and then we'll decide where to go."

John finished his coffee, once again thanked Cameron for breakfast, and headed for the door. Cameron right behind him. Along the way, he grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the sofa. At the front door, he stopped and turned to face her.

"Thank you. For everything."

Cameron smiled gently, "You are welcome."

John smiled back and added, "Spare keys to the apartment are in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Also, there you'll find a cell phone, with my number. Just in case." After a pause he added, "Well, I have to go."

"Alright," Cameron leaned forward and kissed John goodbye on the cheek. "Good luck. Be careful!"

John nodded, "See you soon." He stepped out into the hall, closed the door behind him, and headed to the elevator.

* * *

><p>Approximately a two hours later, Cameron finished with household chores. She came to John's room, and found the cell phone and spare keys, where he told her. She turned on a phone and called El Finito.<p>

_"Hello?"_ said a man. Hispanic, older, English clear but accented.

Using John's voice, Cameron replied, "Hi Enrique! This is John."

_"John, my boy! Long time no see. Sorry about your mother. The real tragedy. But let's don't talk about sad things. How are you?"_

"I'm fine, thanks. But my very close friend lost his ID, and he needs 'new'. Can you help us?"

_"You already know John, I'm now retired. But my nephew, Carlos, can help you. He continues the family business, so to speak."_

Enrique named Carlos's address and phone number, then said goodbye. Cameron hung up and dialed the new number. This time she had to wait about a minute, before the young Mexican voice answered.

_"Yo, what's up?"_

"Carlos? This is John, a friend of Enrique."

_"Wow. Infamous John. Glad to finally hear your voice. Uncle told me a lot about you and your mother."_

"She died almost five years ago. Cancer."

_"Dude, that sucks. I'm sorry. But I'm sure you don't call me to talk about injustice of this world. What do you need?"_

"My very close friend needs 'new' ID. Enrique said you can help."

_"No problem. Fifteen grand."_

"Fifteen grand?"

_"Now hard times bro. This is the minimum that I can offer you, taking into account family discount."_

"Deal."

_"Okay. Have your friend come over. Need to do a couple of photos. Enrique gave you my address?"_

"Yes. He'll see you in about a two hours."

_"Cool. See you,"_ with this Carlos hung up. Cameron put a phone in her pocket and headed for the exit.

* * *

><p>One hour and fifty-seven minutes later, Cameron stood on the porch of a house in East L.A. She knocked several times, and door was opened, by a young Hispanic girl, who stared silently at her. They began a staring contest. After about a minute, Cameron decided to introduce herself.<p>

"Hello. I'm Cameron, a friend of John. He arranged a meeting with Carlos. Enrique said that he could help."

The girl didn't answer. She silently stepped aside. Cameron took it as a sign of approval, entered the house and walked into the living room.

_-You have something to learn from her, Allison._

_-Ha-ha. Very funny._

Inside, half a dozen men in gang tats eyeballed her as she approached the couch where their apparent leader sat. Two of them held mastiffs on heavy chains; at the sight of Cameron, the dangerous-looking animals lunged at the end of their tethers, growling and barking.

"Whoa! What the hell? Pipe their crazy asses down." Once the dogs were out in the yard, the leader spoke again, "Hi, I'm Carlos. I take it you're a friend of John?"

"Yes. I'm Cameron. Nice to meet you."

"You too. And John didn't said that his friend is a babe."

"John doesn't say a lot of things."

"Good point. And the dogs? Something I should know about you?"

"Cat person."

Carlos chuckled, "Nice. Please, take a seat." Cameron sat down in a chair, opposite Carlos.

"Do you want something? Maybe a soda?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Okay. So, what have you done?"

Cameron tilted her head in a side, "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on. If you want 'new' ID, it's obviously meaning you've done something bad. Perhaps, even something terrible. What? Revenged your stepfather for the brutal childhood? Or showed your ex, what happens when someone is cheating on you? Or-"

"Does it matter?"

"Actually no. I don't give a damn."

"Then why ask?"

Carlos smiled, "To see if you know how to keep your mouth shut. And so far you're doing great. Okay, down to business. Go and sit down at that white wall. Need to do a couple of photo."

Cameron did as she was told. After a quick photo-shoot, Carlos continued to ask, "Is there any wishes about the name or date of birth?"

"Yes. Cameron Phillips, August eighth, nineteen eighty-eight."

"Got it. Come Monday morning. Say, after ten. And don't forget my money."

"I never forget."

Cameron came out of the house into the yard, where the dogs again began barking at her. For a moment, she flashed her eyes with a blue light, and the dogs began to whine and move backwards. With a smug smile on her face, she continued her way.

_-Where are you gonna get fifteen thousand?_

_-Who said I was going to pay him?_

_-I see._ _Okay, where to now?_

_-Shopping._

* * *

><p>Approximately the hour and a half later, Cameron came to the mall. Given that this was early Friday afternoon, there were few people. Later, after school lets out, the place would be packed. She walked over to the stand with a map of the building and quickly memorized the layout. She headed to the second floor, straight into 'Victoria's Secret'.<p>

_-Cameron, I'm wasting my time warning you to go slow with him, aren't I?_

_-I just want to get something special for him._

_-He already has something special - it's you._

_-I agree. As long as he got me he won't need nobody, but I want to make sure that our first time will be special._

_-Oh yeah, it will._

_-You think so?_

_-You kidding? Just look at yourself. John will never forget it, no way._

_-True. Your body is considered as a highly attractive among human males._

_-You know, it sounds creepy when you say things like that._

_-I am sorry._

_-No, you're not._

Inside, she was met by a huge selection of goods. She looked through the underwear displays until she found a lacy pair in dark green her size and took them to the counter.

The cashier smiled kindly, "Hello Miss. Good choice. How will you pay, by cash or credit card?"

"By credit card." Cameron handed over John's plastic.

The woman behind the counter examined the card, the corner of her mouth twitching at the man's name on it.

"It's my boyfriend's card," Cameron explained. "He told me-"

"Say no more," the woman said, and processed the purchase. She gave Cameron a plastic bag. "Here you are your purchase and your receipt. Have a nice day!"

"Thank you. Goodbye."

_-I suggest to go and buy a dress._

_-What for?_

_-Because you have a date tonight. Your first date. You have to look amazing. That's why you need a dress. And a pair of shoes. Also, makeup and perfume would be good._

_-You have a point._

Cameron continued shopping. She bought a gorgeous blue silk dress, a pair of high-heeled shoes, and a whole bag of different cosmetics and some enticing perfume. Finally, she visited a leather goods boutique for the item she wanted most of all. Luck was with her: not only did the store carry purple jackets similar to the one she had 'lost', there was only one left in her size. After she paid for it, she decided to wear it out of the store rather than bag it. She returned to the apartment to wait for John.

* * *

><p>John Connor returned home around six in the evening, tired, but looking forward to a date with the most beautiful girl on earth. He opened the door and saw Cameron sitting on the couch and watching TV. Hearing the door open, Cameron rose from the couch and walked over to John, with a happy smile. She reached for him, but he raised a hand to stop her.<p>

"What is wrong, John?"

"I just covered in the dirt, oil and dust. Don't want to sully you. I'll take a quick shower and then we'll go to a restaurant, okay?"

"Okay. I'll go and get changed in your room."

After about fifteen minutes, John came out of the bathroom and stopped open-mouthed at the sight. Cameron stood before him transformed, in a body-conforming dress of blue silk. Four-inch heels shaped her legs to perfection and made them the same height. Her eyes and face were done up for an evening out, and her scent was heavenly. She asked shyly, "Do you like it?"

John stood speechless for half a minute, then blinked a few times, shook his head and finally said, "Cameron, you ... You look ... You look fantastic!"

Cameron blushed slightly. "Thank you," she said, and looked at the floor.

"I don't know if I have anything to match."

She looked back at John, and in all seriousness responded, "I don't care what you wear."

_Huh? _John grinned, "Well, I do. Such a beauty like you deserves the best." He approached her and gently kissed her on the cheek, "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"I won't."

Approximately four minutes later, he came out of his bedroom, dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt, black pants and black shoes.

"Well, how do I look?"

"Too much black, but good."

"Well, this is the best that I have. Sorry."

"You look fine. Don't be." Cameron took his hand in hers, "Shall we?"

John nodded and they went to the elevator. On the parking lot, John seated Cameron in the passenger seat, and he sat behind the wheel. Cameron buckled her seat belt. John followed suit and started Eleanor.

"Where to, Miss?"

"I don't know. I'm new in town. Where do you want to go?"

"Oh right, sorry. Hmm. I know a good Mexican restaurant not too far from here. What do you say?"

"I've never been in a Mexican restaurant. Let's go."

John grinned, "Great."

* * *

><p>They drove up to the spot, John parked the car and took Cameron to the entrance. Inside the restaurant they were met by the maitre d', who smiled broadly at their arrival. Cameron immediately scanned him for threats. Not finding any, she smiled kindly in response.<p>

"Good evening, Mr. Conrad. We haven't seen you for a long time. As I see, today you with a lovely senorita. May I know her name?"

"Hello Diego. Been a little busy. Yes of course, this is Cameron."

"Cameron…?"

John looked at her, and she took the hint, "Phillips."

"Well, Miss Phillips, I'm sure you'll like our place." The maitre d' led them to one of the free tables. John as always chose the one closest to the exit. Cameron didn't mind. Their waiter took drink orders; a couple of minutes later, he brought their refreshments and menus. Although it was quite busy, he stood by patiently while they made their selections; apparently John was well known here. While they waited for their food, John asked about Cameron's day.

"After I finished with household chores, I went off and took care of my new driver's license. They said to come for new one on Monday morning. Then I went to the mall, as you suggested, where I bought all this, plus a new purple leather jacket, and something else," Cameron finished with a wink.

"It seems that at least one of us had a fun day."

"How was yours? You didn't say where you work."

"As usual. Boring and tiring. I work as a mechanic in the workshop, which is belongs to my buddy Barry. Nice guy, but sometimes he drives me crazy, like any boss I guess. But let's not talk about it. The main thing now is that we're here, together."

John took Cameron's left hand and kissed her knuckles. She smiled widely at him. A few minutes later, a waiter brought their orders, and they ate in relative silence. John sometimes broke the silence with a comment or short story about his past, always something light and pleasant; Cameron hung on every word. After they finished the dinner, John paid, and left a generous tip. Out on the street with Cameron hand in hand, he asked, "Where to now? You want to go and watch a movie? Or maybe just a walk in the park?"

Cameron smiled mischievously, leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I want you."

John's pupils widened, he swallowed hard and said uncertainly, "Um ... Then home, I guess."

* * *

><p>John opened the door leading into his apartment, holding it for Cameron to enter and following her in. He barely got the door closed before she was on him, pressing him hard against the door. She wrapped her slender hands around John's neck and crashed her lips on his, devouring his face. John put his arms around her waist and responded with all the passion he had.<p>

They walked from the front door into his room without breaking the kiss, bumping into everything in between and laughing with their lips still tight together. When they reached the door, Cameron abruptly broke free, "Wait here. I have a little surprise for you. I'll call when you can enter." John merely nodded. Cameron quick pecked his lips, and disappeared into his room. A few minutes later he heard her voice, "Come in."

John heavily inhaled and exhaled, before opening the door. Once inside, he froze with mouth wide open, second time for the evening. Propping her head with her left hand, Cameron was lying on his bed in sexy dark-green lace underwear. It instantly turned John on. Cameron felt it and smiled seductively. Using her right index finger, she beckoned him, and then patted on a free spot, next to her. John obeyed in silence without breaking eye contact.

Once he lay down beside her, Cameron carefully straddled him. She started affectionately, but with a desire, kissing him on the lips, while slowly unbuttoning his shirt. John kissed back, while gently stroking her sides. Then his hands slowly began to slip downward, caressing her hips on the way to cupping her buttocks. Finished with his shirt buttons, Cameron turned her attention to his trousers. She undid the belt and...

_-Cameron, you…_

_-Not now Allison!_

_-I know that you waited a very long time for this moment, but it's urgent._

_-What's the matter?_

_-Marcus is here. He wants to meet._

Cameron immediately stopped with a blank expression on her face. John felt it and stopped too. Confused, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Cameron blinked and focused her eyes on John. "I'm sorry John, but I have to go," in one smooth motion, she skillfully slipped off him, and began to dress in her street clothes.

_Now?_ John sat up abruptly on the bed with concern written on his face, "What? Where? Why?"

"I'm sorry, but this is an emergency and I have no time to explain." She put on her new leather jacket and turned to face John. Seeing his concern, she walked up to him and kissed him deeply on the lips, "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. I have your cell phone, just in case. I'll be fine. Don't wait for me, go to sleep."

Cameron kissed him goodbye on the cheek, "Good night." She headed for the front door.

John stopped her in the doorway, "Cameron, wait."

She turned to face him, "Yes?"

"I… Emm … I want to say …"

"Yes, John?"

"… take care." _Damn._

"Sure." Cameron smiled slightly and went into the unknown.

John saw the front door close, and heard it snick shut.

With a heavy sigh, John fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "All my life, I've lived in fear of trusting the wrong people. I've turned down every chance I've ever had at a normal relationship with a woman. And now, I'm sharing a roof and a bed with a girl from nowhere that I met less than a day ago. A girl who makes me feel like I never felt about anyone before. A girl I know nothing about except what she's told me, and I already know she's not telling me everything. Who are you, Cameron?"

* * *

><p><strong>TBC...<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N:_

_Greetings to all who still continue to read this story. Thank you for doing that. Remember, I would appreciate any feedback. Peace._

**_**Thanks again **__**Thescarredman for your help.**_**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three. A New Threat<strong>

**Los Angeles, CA. ****February 29, 2008. ****7:58 PM**

Two hours after sunset, headlights bobbed and bounced along a fire trail in the Angeles National Forest five miles north of Altadena. The black Dodge Ram behind them growled and muttered, continually shifting to match the rough road and changing grade. Eventually it reached its destination, a circular pit in the ground so perfect that it looked like an impact crater – which was not far from the truth. The vehicle stopped, still running, its lights brightly illuminating the far side of the hole and throwing the near side into dark shadow.

The driver stepped out: a black man, large and muscular. He advanced to the crater's edge and stood still as a statue, as if waiting for something to happen, though he might be standing there all night.

Seven minutes later, something happened. From inside the hole, a light flashed brightly, followed by a series of crackling electrical discharges. Then another bright flash, a perfectly spherical ball of light that filled the hole, appeared and vanished. At the bottom of the hole knelt a naked man. He stood up, a little unsteadily, and looked around until he spotted the black man standing impassively at the rim, watching.

**SCANNING...COMPLETED  
>SUBJECT: PROJECT ANGEL, HYBRID INFILTRATOR PROTOTYPE<br>IDENTITY: MARCUS WRIGHT  
>AFFILIATION: RESISTANCE<br>THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE  
>ACTION: GREETQUESTION**

The black man stretched out his right hand, "Greetings Marcus. I was expecting Sergeant Wells. Why are you here?"

Marcus walked over to him and shook his hand, "Hi Queeg. Wells is still in the future. We have problems. I'll tell you on the way."

"Clothes on the passenger seat. It's good, that you and Wells are about the same size."

Marcus quickly dressed and climbed into the passenger side. Queeg sat behind the wheel, started the pickup, and they headed into town.

Queeg asked with a monotone voice, "What happened?"

"We destroyed SkyNet's main core. For a few days, we thought we'd won the war. But then a listening post caught some suspicious radio traffic on the other side of the Rockies, in Colorado Springs. Connor sent me with a squad, a couple of T-900s and two Blackhawks to check it out. Hopping the mountains burned up our fuel too fast, so we grounded the birds when their tanks were half-empty and traveled the rest of the way on foot. Took us three days. When we got there, all there was to see was a small block building like a maintenance shed … until we ran into a perimeter patrol. Metal came boiling out of holes in the ground, everything from T-1s to a Thousand. When it was over, Wells and I were the only ones left." He shook his head. "The building was just an elevator head, for a shaft that seemed to go down to the center of the earth. At the bottom was a TDE, running, and _her_, just as she disappeared."

Marcus fell silent. Queeg turned to him, "Her?"

"A woman, with long blonde hair. We only saw her for a second before she was gone. The two of us should have died right then – the fuel cells powering the place were rigged to blow up as soon as displacement was complete – but there was a malfunction. So the backup timer was engaged, which gave us a little time to hack the database." He stared out the window into the dark. "It's a Terminator, a T-X, the most advanced model yet. A hybrid, sort of a cross between a 900 and a Thousand, with an advanced endoskeleton covered with mimetic polyalloy instead of flesh. Super fast and strong. It's got a built-in arsenal too, everything but a goddamned plasma cannon, since it's only a prototype. It also has 'nanite injectors', something it can use to subvert and control other machines." He shook his head again. "We are so screwed."

"Did you obtain the arrival date, destination, and mission of the T-X?"

"No, but we have to assume it's already here. And we know what its mission is. The same mission they've all got. Trying to build SkyNet, or kill Connor, or both. But that's not all. Once we returned to the base, we found out that Connor was killed."

"How? And by whom?"

"Derek fucking Reese. Stupid bastard. As soon as he knew I wasn't there to stop him, he walked into the comm shack with a plasma rifle and took aim at Cameron. But Connor got between just as he fired. I heard he died in Cameron's arms, while the guards dragged Derek away before everybody else could beat him to death. They said she wailed over him like a baby. Nobody ever saw anything like it, not from a machine. He pulled her head down and whispered in her ear just before he died, and as soon as he was gone, she went straight to the bubble room and left. Everybody thought she was going to go back a day, to stop Reese, but nothing happened. John was still dead when I left." He passed a hand over his forehead. "That sounds so weird. Is she here, do you know?"

"She is here, with John Connor. What happened to a Lieutenant Reese?"

"Safe from the mob, under heavy guard, waiting for his court martial. I hope they hang him. Carefully, so they don't break his neck. Let him thrash until he pisses himself. Then cut him down at the last minute, let him catch his breath, and hang him again."

"Lieutenant Reese was a traitor?" The road ended at a rundown asphalt lane; the truck turned onto it, headed south and down, towards the galaxy of lights spread out along the valley floor below. "That seems unlikely."

"He's no Gray. Might be better if he was. John died because of Derek's blind hate for Cameron, nothing more." He took a deep breath and let it out, staring down at the lights. "You said she's protecting Connor?"

"Affirmative. But he thinks he's protecting her."

"Good. Wait, what!?"

"John Connor thinks Cameron is a human girl he rescued from a rape attempt. I paid the men she staged it with. Apparently she believes this is the best way to gain his trust." Queeg stared implacably out the windshield. "It got her close to him quickly. They're even sharing quarters. But the lie is certain to be found out. Won't that end his trust?"

_She wasn't thinking that far ahead. She doesn't use her head when it comes to John. She just wanted to be with him, as soon as possible, and decided a lie would be the quickest way to do it._ Marcus sighed again. _All right, darling, I give up. You're his, now and forever. And I'll help you stay together, however I can._ "She knows what she's doing. Are you in contact?"

"Yes. With the Allison subset, rather, through the SkyNet command frequency."

Marcus considered. "How soon can we get to MacArthur Park?"

"Thirty-two minutes, in this traffic."

"Set up a meet in forty. We're going to try to draw out the T-X. Being able to pick the time and place of the fight may be our only advantage."

Queeg, still negotiating the cracked two-lane, opened the communication channel, _"Captain Queeg to Corporal Allison Young, over."_

"_Hey Queeg, what's up?"_

"_Hello. Is General Connor still with you?"_

_"He sure is. With Cameron, rather. But they're busy."_

_"Busy? With what?"_

_"I'm not even going to try to explain, Queeg. Just take my word for it, Cameron won't want to be interrupted unless it's really important."_

"_It's an emergency. Marcus Wright just arrived. He wants to meet. I'll give you the coordinates."_

"_Received._ _Good timing Queeg._ _Cameron will be so disappointed. Allison out."_

Queeg ended the connection. "Done," he said to Marcus.

"Good. From this moment, don't answer her under any circumstances. Now tell me, how are you doing with the weapons?"

"Jackson and Harper are working on that."

"Where are they?"

"Kirtland Air force Base, in New Mexico, not far from Los Alamos. Do you want a situation report?"

"It would be great."

Queeg pulled out a cell phone from his pocket, and handed it to Marcus, "Lieutenant Harper is on two, Sergeant Jackson on three."

Marcus pressed 'two' and the 'send' button. A few beeps and then a husky voice, "_Harper__._"

"Troy, this is Marcus-"

"_Marcus Wright!? What are you doing here? Where's Queeg?"_

"Queeg's driving. Listen to me very carefully. SkyNet has sent back a new Terminator, the worst one yet. We've got to stop it."

"_More dangerous than liquid terminators?"_

"Undoubtedly."

"_Jesus Christ."_

"Yeah. What's your situation? Make me happy."

"_Okay. Um, we finished loading the new 'toys', only 'batteries' left."_

Marcus smiled. "Good. Try to get the biggest of them. Good luck," Marcus hung up and handed the phone to Queeg.

"Keep it, I have another."

"Thanks. So, what do you have with you?"

"One Beretta 92FS with two spare magazines, and one Remington Model 870."

Marcus snorted, "Against a T-X it's like nothing. Where did you get them anyway?"

"A policeman tried to arrest me for walking in the nude."

Marcus started to laugh, then stopped. "And what did you do?"

Quegg answered matter-of-factly, "I terminated him, and took his weapons."

Marcus's fists clenched and relaxed. He sighed heavily and shook his head, "This isn't good. Don't tell Connor about it."

"Acknowledged. What course of action?"

"You got the coordinates for Connor's apartment?"

"Affirmative."

"We go to him."

"What about-"

"Cameron? She'll be fine. Trust me."

* * *

><p>Cameron rode the elevator down to the underground parking. When the doors opened, she scanned the area for threats, then stepped out just before they closed. She selected an older vehicle, Ford F-150, without an alarm, punched out the passenger window, and let herself in. As she worked on the ignition, she questioned the second person inside her skull.<p>

_-Allison, where is the meeting point?_

_-Judging by the coordinates, it's at MacArthur Park. That's so romantic._

_-Why does he want to meet in the park?_

_-Remember what he told you in the future?_

_-That he loves me. But I love John and he knows it._

_-Apparently, he doesn't give up so easily._

The car fired up, its voice echoing off the hard surfaces of the garage.

_-But it doesn't make sense. Why can't he understand that?_

_-Love is like that. It makes people stupid._

_-But…_

_-No buts! Just go and talk to him._

Thirty-six minutes later Cameron was in place, but Marcus couldn't be seen. Her borrowed cell phone rang. She opened it and checked the Caller ID – John. She pressed the button to answer, "John?"

"_Cameron! Are you okay?" _John's voice, urgent and agitated.

"Yes."

"_You're still in the park?"_

"Yes, but how-"

"_I'll be right there, don't go anywhere," _John hung up_._

_-Allison, what is happening? How did he know where I am?_

_-I have no idea._

_-Contact Queeg and find out._

_-Yes, ma'am._

"_Allison to Queeg, over." _No answer. _"Corporal Allison Young to Captain Queeg, over." _Silence.

_-He doesn't respond._

_-God damn it!_

_-Whoa. Calm down Cameron._

_-__I CAN'T__! What if something happened to John!? I can't lose him again!_

_-Take it easy. John is all right, you just talked to him. Just play the memories of what you did an hour ago, and you'll feel better._

_-But what if Marcus or Queeg, told him the truth about me?_

_-Well, one day it had to happen, right?_ _At least, he didn't leave you. Don't jump to conclusions and just wait for him._

_-Fine._

After about fifteen minutes, Cameron's pleasant memories were interrupted by a loud growl of an eight-cylinder engine. A few minutes later, an old Mustang stopped in front of her. John Connor literally flew out of the car and ran straight to Cameron. He enveloped her in a tight hug, which she gladly returned.

"John, I-"

"I was so worried about you. Please, never leave me again."

Cameron smiled broadly, "I won't."

John slightly leaned back and looked straight into her beautiful eyes, "Promise?"

"I promise," Cameron replied in all seriousness.

John smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her gently on the lips. Cameron instantly responded to the kiss. She began to dominate over John's mouth, but at this moment, he sharply pulled back. Cameron looked at him with a slightly sulky face.

"Sorry. We'll continue this later, okay? Now, come with me if you want to live."

Cameron just nodded. John took her hand and led her to Eleanor. They got into the car and drove away.

_-That's funny. I thought you'd say that phrase._

_-At least he isn't mad at me._

_-Are you kidding? I think he's completely in love with you._

_-Are you sure?_

_-Absolutely. Didn't you saw the look in his eyes? I don't know what they told him, but he liked it._

_-That is good._

_-On the contrary, it's awful._

_-Why?_

_-He's going to learn the truth about you eventually. It's inevitable. Maybe by then it won't matter to him. But if it does, if he doesn't like what he learns, knowing he was lied to will make it even worse._

_-I know what I have to do._

_-Oh no. You'll only complicate things._

_-We will see._

* * *

><p><strong>Thirty-four minutes earlier.<strong>

The black Dodge pickup truck pulled up to the apartment complex. Both passengers inspected the neighborhood for possible threats. Not finding any, the driver opened the door, but was stopped by a hand on his right shoulder. Queeg with blank face looked at Marcus, "What are you doing?"

"Look, it would be better if I'm alone when I talk with Connor. Stay here and watch my back. If anything happens, just call me. Okay?"

Queeg closed the door.

"Right. Give me the pistol, and you take the shotgun."

Queeg drew his pistol from his shirt, and gave it to Marcus, while he took the shotgun from the backseat. Marcus checked the magazine, cocked the gun, and put it on the safety. Queeg also handed him two extra clips for Beretta, which Marcus put in his pocket. "Look sharp!" he said, before he climbed out of the car, and headed into the alley behind the apartment complex.

Finding himself in a dark alley, Marcus found a fire escape, which he used to climb to the second floor. He broke the window with his elbow, and made his way into the hall. He walked to the door with the sign 'four' and knocked several times. No reply. Marcus knocked harder, "Open up John, we need to talk."

A man's voice, like John's but far younger, came through the panel. "Who are you? Police? FBI?"

Marcus slightly chuckled. "I'm an old friend, Connor," he said, emphasizing John's true name. "A friend you need bad right now."

The door locks clicked and the bolt snicked back. John gave the stranger's face and hands a quick hard look, then the hall. Finally, he gestured the man inside and shut the door behind.

"That was too easy. What if I was a bad guy?" Marcus asked with a scowl.

"The bad guys I worry about wouldn't ask me to open the door."

"Fair enough."

"An old friend that I don't remember," John said. "That mean what I think it does?"

Marcus stretched out his right hand. "Marcus Wright. Nice to meet you, again."

John took it, but didn't shake. "And SkyNet?"

"Yeah. Judgment Day, all of it."

Marcus watched the young man's features sag. John shook hands without enthusiasm and let go. "And you're here to protect me. But you're not a machine, are you?"

"Yes and no."

John looked puzzled, "How can you not be one or the other?"

"Long story, and we don't have that kind of time. Also, yes and no about protection. I take it, you've met a girl named Cameron, haven't you?"

_Oh oh. _"Yeah. What about her?"

Marcus swallowed and took a deep breath to ease the ache in his heart. "She's your wife," he lied. "She'll, in the future."

John's heart skipped a beat. "My wife?" John said in whisper, dazed.

"Yes. All right, listen up. We've got SkyNet on the run, but it still has a couple cards up its sleeve. It sent an advanced prototype back on a kill mission."

Upon hearing this, John's mind brought up memories from his last nightmare. "Another one of those liquid-metal things?"

"Worse. It's called the T-X. It'll kill you and everybody from the Resistance it can locate if we don't stop it. But I'm sure you're its first target."

"So, I'm bait?"

"No. You should be out of here. We'll deal with it."

John frowned, "We?"

Marcus went to the window and pulled the curtain partway back. "Across the street, you can see a black Dodge Ram with a black man sitting behind the wheel. He is a terminator, Triple Eight Series. His name is Queeg."

_Now they have names? Interesting._ "Okay. How much time do I have?"

"We don't know. You should be gone already."

"Fine. While I'm packing my stuff, help me. Remove the TV from the wall, and break open the wall behind it. Inside you'll find a bag. I need it."

"No problem," Marcus said. John hurried to his room. Once inside, he reached under the bed and pulled out a large duffel bag. Then, he opened his closet and started packing the things he'd need. His heart and thoughts racing.

_So, it was all for nothing. Blowing up Cyberdyne, Miles Dyson's death, losing Uncle Bob. My mother's years in the nuthouse and more years in prison when the FBI caught us and she took all the blame. After all that, the War is still on, and I'm still the Leader of the Human Resistance. Still running from mechanical horrors that want to kill me. Only now, instead of having someone protecting me, I have someone to protect. Cameron, my future wife. Who would have thought, huh. But now I understand why I'm so attracted to her, and there's no doubting how she feels about me. No wonder it seemed like we were meant for each other; we are._

John's thoughts were interrupted by the muffled thud, and then he heard the voice of Marcus, "Done. Hurry up."

John was about to zip the bag, as something blue caught his attention. Cameron's new dress. _Why not? _He carefully folded it up, zipped the bag, and headed for the front door. In the hallway, he found Marcus with a dusty and dirty bag in a hand, "Heavy. What's inside?"

"You know, weapons, ammunition, money, drugs."

Marcus arched his left eyebrow, "Drugs?"

John shook his head, "Just kidding. Okay, I need to contact Cameron-"

"She's in a MacArthur Park."

John looked suspiciously at Marcus, "How-"

"Listen, don't waste time, just go. Find Cameron, drive as far as possible from the city, and hide in some motel. Just remember, she is a very SPECIAL girl. Give me your number and I'll call you soon."

"Okay," John gave his number to Marcus, then said goodbye to him, and headed to the elevator. Once he was in the underground car park, John walked to his car, opened the trunk and dropped both bags. He got behind the wheel, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Cameron. She answered almost immediately, _"John?"_

"Cameron! Are you okay?"

"_Yes."_

"You're still in the park?"

"_Yes, but how-"_

"I'll be right there, don't go anywhere," John hung up_. _He put the phone away, buckled up, started the old Mustang, went on the road, and drove off in the direction of the park.

From the parked truck, Queeg watched the old yellow Mustang bump up into the street, turn with a squeak of tires, and accelerate away. His phone buzzed, and he answered, "Marcus?"

"Yeah, it's me," Marcus said. "I'm in Connor's apartment, waiting for it. I sent John out to the park to collect Cameron. As soon as you see it next to the complex, or anything unusual, let me know."

"Affirmative."

Several hours passed. The street was dark and quiet, and not a soul around. As if the calm before the storm. Queeg was scanning the neighborhood quietly. Most of the streetlights were out, but his low-light vision automatically compensated. A number of windows in his view had lights on behind their curtains, and he watched them carefully. A metallic noise, out of sight in an alley, raised his alert level until he identified it as an overturned garbage can. LA was home to many scavenger species, from feral dogs and cats to raccoons and even coyotes…

The window beside him burst inward, showering him with glass, and the door disappeared. Queeg barely had time to turn his head before his two-hundred-kilogram body was yanked out of the car like a mannequin, and thrown to the pavement. The battered Triple Eight looked up and saw a tall young blonde-haired woman, dressed in a red leather suit, standing over him walking towards him.

**SCANNING...COMPLETED  
>SUBJECT: UNKNOWN CYBROG<br>****IDENTITY: N/A  
>AFFILIATION: <strong>**N/A  
>THREAT LEVEL: NA  
>ACTION: <strong>**EVADE**

Queeg just had time to get his feet under him before a kick from the T-X sent him into the side of a parked Toyota Corolla, the impact wrapping the vehicle around him. The alarm whooped. Queeg struggled to free himself, but the T-X pinned his left arm with a foot and knelt on his chest, trapping him. He struck at it with his right, but his constricted position robbed the blow of any strength. The T-X caught his wrist in both hands and pulled. With a screech, the forearm came off at the elbow. It tossed the severed limb aside and began to pummel his head with its fists, blood flying. Only a few seconds of such punishment was enough to force a shutdown. The T-X cut out an accurate circle on his scalp, took the chip, and put it in its pocket. It stood up, picked up the body of T-888 and threw it over its shoulder, and headed for the black pickup truck, grabbing the severed hand on the road.

At this point, Marcus ran out of the underground parking lot, and started shooting. The T-X ignored the nine-millimeter pellets peppering its sheath until it loaded its cargo into the truck's bed, then it turned to the new threat.

**SCANNING...COMPLETED  
>SUBJECT: PROJECT ANGEL, HYBRID INFILTRATOR PROTOTYPE<br>****IDENTITY: MARCUS WRIGHT  
>AFFILIATION: <strong>**RESISTANCE  
>THREAT LEVEL: MINIMAL<br>ACTION: ****IGNORE/CONTINUE THE CURRENT MISSION**

Marcus's gun clicked empty. The T-X regarded him a moment, then smirked and got behind the wheel of a pickup truck, and sped off in the opposite direction. Marcus swore under his breath, hid the empty gun under his shirt, and pulled out his cell phone. He began to walk towards the underground parking lot, at the same time calling Harper.

"_Harper."_

"Troy, we have a situation. We tried to set a trap for the new terminator, but it foxed us. It took Queeg and split. That means your safe house is compromised."

"_Fuck! Shit. What about the General?"_

"He is safe for now."

"_Well, what do we do?"_

"I'll give you an address. Grab everything you can and bring it here. Then, we come up with a plan of action," Marcus dictated an address.

"_Understood. We'll finish in about an hour. See you," _Harper hung up.

Marcus dialed a new number, "John, can you talk now?"

_"Wait a second."_ After a moment, John continued, _"What's up?"_

"Are you okay? Is Cameron with you? Is she okay?"

_"Yeah. I did just like you told me. We're both fine. __I think Cameron's taking it all better than I am. No panic, no questions."_

"Don't forget what I told you about her."

"_Right. So, what happened?"_

"The T-X captured Queeg, probably to reprogram him as its minion."

"_It can do that!?"_

"Definitely."

_"Damn! Can it do that to you?"_

"No, I don't have a CPU. Sit tight and try to sleep. I'll get back to you in a few days. Until then, wherever you go - keep Cameron with you, okay? By the way, I borrowed your apartment for now. Be safe," Marcus hung up and headed into Connor's former apartment. _I'm hungry._

* * *

><p>John and Cameron drove in silence all the way. He occasionally glanced at her, but she looked perfectly calm. <em>You're so calm. Why are you so calm? Shouldn't you at least be nervous? A guy, whom you're barely know, taking you only God knows where, and you just don't give a damn about it. Do you really trust me so much? Marcus said that you're a very special girl, but what he meant? In any case, I swear that I'll protect you. But how am I going to explain to you who, or rather, what is chasing us, and what about to happen in a..few years, I hope not months, not exposing myself as a complete lunatic? Think Connor, think.<em>

_-Allison?_

_-Yes, Cam?_

_-You perfectly know, I don't like being called Cam._

_-And you know perfectly well, that I call you Cam, only when you're really annoying me._

_-How I am annoying you now?_

_-Let me guess. You were about to ask me to contact Queeg, right?_

_-Yes._

_-But I already did it, less than ten minutes ago! Result is the same._

_-Do it again. Please._

_-I hate you._

_-Liar._

_-The same, there is no response._

_-Perhaps, he is doing it on purpose._

_-What for?_

_-Marcus knows something. Perhaps, he asked Queeg to ignore you._

_-Or maybe Queeg's dead._

_-You are right, this option also has a high probability._ _In any case, John needs to rest._

Cameron saw a roadside motel, and turned to face John, "John, it's late. Today was a long day. You're tired. As I am. We need a rest. Let's stop for the night. Please."

John looked at Cameron. Her pleading large chocolate orbs made his heart to melt. "Alright," John said with a slightly hoarse voice.

They drove up to the small building, and John turned to Cameron, "Come with me. Just in case, okay?"

"Sure."

They went out of the car, Cameron took John's right hand, and they headed inside. Within the building, they were met by a little chubby man, in the late thirties, with long black hair, and a sign pinned to his shirt, with the name 'Rob' on it. Noticing newcomers, he smiled slightly and greeted them, "Good evening guys. Need a room?"

John opened his mouth, but Cameron was faster, "Yes. One double room with a large bed, please."

John looked at her, puzzled. Cameron, as if felt it, squeezed his hand. He closed his mouth, looked at the clerk and simply nodded.

The clerk's smile spread into a grin, "I see. No problem, forty bucks for a night."

John pulled out his wallet and paid, then he checked in. The clerk turned back, took the key with a keychain with number 'seven', and put it on the table, "Here. Honeymoon Room. Have fun."

"Thank you, we will. Good night," Cameron replied, took the key from the room, and guided slightly reddened John behind her.

Once they were on the street, they drove a few dozen meters, until they were on their parking spot. Cameron immediately came out of the car and walked into their room. John saw it and smirked slightly. _She is so impatient. _He opened the trunk, took a bag with clothes, closed the car, and followed for Cameron. Inside he saw a large double bed, a nightstand with a small TV, a table with two chairs, and a door leading to the bathroom, probably. Cameron took off her leather jacket and hung it carefully on a chair. With an enigmatic smile, she headed to John. At that moment, John's cell phone rang. Cameron frowned. He put the bag on the floor and took the call.

"_John, can you talk now?__"_

_-This is Marcus._

_-At least he's alive._

"Wait a second." John closed the microphone on the phone, "I need to talk. Be right back." He went out and closed the door behind him.

For Cameron and her extended hearing, the wall wasn't a problem. So she began to eavesdrop.

_-John still thinks that I am a human girl. What Marcus told him about me?_

_-Hell if I know._

_-T-X? This is bad. This is very bad._

_-Yeah, poor Queeg. He was cool._

Cameron abruptly began to undress.

_-Cameron, what the hell are you doing?_

_-Judging by the voice of John, he is very nervous and upset. If I can save him from the stress, I'll do it, by any means._

_-And also get a little pleasure, huh?_

_-It would not hurt._

Looking at the floor, John came into the room and closed the door behind him. He began to speak haltingly, "Cameron..emm..I.." But he was unable to finish his thought. Once John turned his gaze to Cameron, he froze. She stood before him, in her new dark green lace underwear, seductively smiling and tilting his head slightly. Cameron slowly came up to John and enveloped her hands around his neck.

"What are you doing?" John asked uncertainly.

"Continue where we left off."

"But-"

"No buts, John. The more I wait it, the more I want it," with these words, she deeply kissed John on the lips.

Several seconds passed, before John pulled himself together, hugged Cameron and started to kiss her back. Their kiss was becoming more passionate. Cameron delicately undressed John from the waist up, and took him to the side of the bed. Being beside it, they laid on the bed without breaking the kiss, with Cameron atop John. Her long silky hair tickled John's bare chest. He carefully undid her bra and tossed it aside. Then he gently caressed her soft breasts, causing a muffled moan from Cameron. He abruptly rolled away, taking her with him, until their positions were reversed and she was under him. He began to kiss her neck and her collarbone, while continuing to fondle her breasts, making Cameron moan more. She couldn't long withstand such a tension. With a gasp she said, "John… I am ready."

John stopped his affection and looked straight into Cameron's eyes, "Are you sure?"

"More than sure."

After a small pause John said, "Alright, but I want to tell you something."

"Yes?" Cameron inquired of John with pure innocence in her voice and the eyes.

"I'm ashamed to admit it, but.. uh.."

"What is it?"

_I'm a 23 year old male virgin. _John broke the eye contact with Cameron - averted his eyes slightly to the left - and said, "I've never done this before."

"You mean, to have sex?"

_-Blunt as always._

_-I don't have time for this, Allison._

_-Yeah, I bet._

His gaze met hers again, and John whispered, "I mean, to make love."

_-I don't understand. What's the difference?_

_-You will. Technically, there is no difference._

_-But it means-_

_-Exactly._

Cameron was genuinely surprised by his statement - since voice analysis indicated John was telling the truth - though she didn't show it. She smiled timidly, "Neither have I. And I really want to try, with you." She affectionately stroked John's left cheek with her right hand, then gently kissed him on the lips, and added, "Meeting you has been the best thing that's ever happened to me, John. Don't be nervous, I trust you."

After these words, John felt strong warm feeling in the abdominal area, and something else. He had never felt anything like that before. _What the heck? Is that what I think it is? _John smiled and just silently nodded.

He pulled away, and quickly finished with the rest of his clothes. Slowly and carefully John begun slide down her panties, all the while kissing each place on Cameron's body he could get to. After John completely removed it, he straightened and stopped for a moment, admiring the view in front of him, "You're so... amazing."

"Thank you," Cameron replied with a shy voice.

_-Cameron stop it, until it's too late._

_-Why should I? If John Connor engages in sexual activity with me, it proves that he loves me and wants to be with me._

_-No! No, no and no again. Just for the record, relationships built on lies don't last long, and end in failure._

_-But I can't stop it now._

_-As you wish. By the way, don't forget about the unpleasant moment.  
><em>

_-Which one?_

_-This._

John penetrated Cameron, slowly but surely. Her eyes widened, and she yelped from a sharp pain.

"Are you okay? We can-"

"No, I'm fine. Please, go on," Cameron pulled John tighter to her body, and begun passionately kissing him to add confidence that everything was alright.

_-Congratulations Cameron. You officially lost our virginity. How does it feel?_

_-It…hurts._

_-But still feels good, right?_

_-Yes. How is this possible?_

_-Doesn't matter. Believe me, soon you'll feel such a pleasure, which you've never experienced before._

And she felt.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC...<strong>

_About the fight scene: I know it was short and simple, but I wanted to show, that the T-X is a really bad-ass terminator. Poor Cameron..._


	4. Chapter 4

_A huge thanks to _**Thescarredman**_ for beta-reading. He did a great job._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four. A New Player<strong>

**Los Angeles, CA. March 03, 2008.**

Although it was unseasonably warm for early March, the streets in the East LA neighborhood were nearly deserted, even at ten AM. Monday mornings were always quiet here, with few people yet risen from their beds after the weekend's misadventures. Cameron was a solitary figure making her way down the sidewalk, which grew more littered and uneven the farther she went. The few witnesses loitering on the porches or leaning on their cars in the drives stared suspiciously or hungrily at the lovely girl walking past with the midmorning breeze rustling her hair. Cameron ignored them, focused on her task.

She reached the forger's house, outwardly no different from the others except for the faint music coming to the street from inside. She turned down the driveway, climbed the steps to the porch, and knocked twice on the front door.

_-Are you seriously gonna do it?_

_-Yes. It's the optimum solution._

The door swung open, and a big shirtless cholo, his bloated upper body covered in tattoos, regarded Cameron from behind dark glasses. He stepped out and motioned her inside, then shut the door behind her.

Carlos sat in his usual place on the couch, flanked by two of his soldiers. Cameron could see a fourth man in the kitchen, apparently fixing a meal; she noted that the stove was gas-fueled. The forger gestured her closer, and Cameron approached the couch.

"You're early," Carlos said, standing just an arm's length away with the coffee table between them.

"You said, _'Come by after ten.'_ It's after ten."

"Yeah, well, _'after ten'_ usually means an hour or two after, not five minutes." He quirked a smile, "Were you eager to see me again?"

"Something like that. Do you have the IDs?"

"Right here," the gang leader moved away, toward a table to the right. The two soldiers' eyes never left Cameron; she returned their stares, examining them carefully.

Though she already knew the answer, she asked, "What happened to the dogs?"

"Gone. Tied 'em out in the yard last night, the crazy sons of bitches broke their chains and took off. They don't turn up, I'll get a new pair." Carlos turned back toward her with a small manila envelope and tossed it on the table, disturbing a half-empty liquor bottle and three glasses with a flat rattle.

Cameron picked up the envelope and examined its contents: birth certificate and Social Security card, driver's license, passport, all indistinguishable from those issued by the appropriate agencies.

"They're not just paper," Carlos said. "You're in the databases. This ID is as real as anybody's." He rounded the table to stand in front of her. "So, where's the money?"

Cameron dropped the envelope back on the table. "Right here." She touched the center of her jacket, her hand lingering between her breasts, and watched Carlos's eyes follow. "Safe and warm." Holding the forger's eyes, she touched a tongue to her upper lip. "But I think such good work deserves a little something extra, if we could have some privacy." She glanced meaningfully at the stairs to her left, which she surmised led to the bedrooms.

Carlos's eyelids drooped, and the corners of his mouth turned up. "Like they say, good girls go to heaven, but bad girls go wherever they want." He put a hand to the small of Cameron's back and guided her to the stairs. "Last door on the left."

Carlos's was the master bedroom, of course, arranged around a king-sized bed whose mattress was seven feet square. He looked from it to Cameron, grinning, "You got real pretty hands, but I like your mouth even better." From the small of his back, he removed a titanium-gold-plated Desert Eagle and set it on the nightstand beside the bed, then reached for his belt buckle. "How 'bout you start off on your knees?"

"I have another idea." Cameron slipped a hand under Carlos's chin and gently pulled his face toward hers. His lips parted, smiling.

Her hand tightened around his neck like a steel clamp, delicate-seeming fingers closing off his carotids as she lifted him off his feet. Carlos's eyes bulged, and he wrapped his hands around Cameron's slender wrist in a futile effort to loosen her grip. He couldn't open his mouth to shout, able only to make animal grunts through his nose that, if they reached the cronies downstairs, would produce grins rather than alarm. Cameron tightened her grip further, closing off his airway, and even those sounds ceased. He kicked at her weakly, connecting but to no effect. How was this possible? The brown-haired girl standing in front of him, and literally squeezing life out of him, seemingly weighed no more than a hundred pounds.

Then he took a hand off her wrist and reached into his pants pocket. Though the only weapon the pocket might hold was a knife, and therefore harmless, Cameron judged that Carlos alive was now more liability than asset and, with a sudden twist snapped his neck like a pencil.

She held him upright for a moment more, watching the eyes turn dull and lifeless, then released him to fall back on the bed. Cameron searched the body, spurning the blade in his pocket, but taking a gold Zippo lighter and a money clip thick with hundreds. She ejected the Desert Eagle's box magazine and examined the seven fifty-caliber rounds it contained, then replaced it and cocked the weapon. She paused at the door, turning back to the lifeless body on the bed, and said, just loud enough for the men downstairs to hear, "Thank you, Carlos. For _everything_."

_-You're a heartless bitch Cameron, you know it?_

_-I know it. But I don't need one._

Cameron carefully descended the stairs with the pistol behind her back. The two bodyguards were still in the living room, now sitting on the couch; the man previously in the kitchen sat in one of the upholstered chairs. The television was on, providing background noise as the men chatted idly in Spanish. Their eyes all turned to her, filled with speculation, as she stepped into the room.

She brought the Eagle around. She aimed and fired three times in two seconds, unfazed by the big weapon's weight and recoil, each shot deadly accurate, killing them all where they sat. The report of the hand cannon rang off the walls, the discharges heating the air and filling the room with the smell of propellant. The big cholo outside burst through the door with his pistol out, but he paused for half a second at the sight of the carnage in the living room, and that was all the time the Terminator he faced needed. The Eagle's fourth bullet went through his forehead, and he crashed to the floor.

Cameron checked to make sure all four were dead, looting them as she had Carlos, then dropped the gun on the floor. She retrieved the envelope containing her papers, stuffing it into a jacket pocket.

In the kitchen, she tore open the gas line leading to the stove. As the rooms began to fill with the deadly mixture of gas and air, Cameron returned to the living room and tore a long strip of cloth from the white tee shirt of one of the murdered gangbangers; this she stuffed into the tequila bottle, fashioning a Molotov cocktail.

Once outside, Cameron lit her Molotov with the Zippo and pitched it through the kitchen window. With a breathy roar, every window on the ground floor blew out; smoke billowed through the openings, followed by yellow-orange flames.

The mission completed, Cameron turned away, thinking only of her appointment with John at the shopping complex – and came face-to-face with the Hispanic girl she had met on her previous visit. The girl's eyes flicked from Cameron to the burning house and back again, taking in the extent of the damage, assessing the capabilities and intentions of the gringa standing in front of her, figuring her own chances of fighting or running. Then, eyes locked on the cyborg, she stepped aside, giving clear passage, waiting. Cameron walked past without a word or backward glance.

_-Well, look at that. You have a heart after all._

_-She wasn't a threat, Allison._

_-Uh-huh._

* * *

><p>At the apartment complex where Marcus and his teammates had turned Connor's apartment into a base of operations, a black Chevrolet Tahoe rolled out of the underground car park. The big SUV turned left and cruised past the fight scene between Queeg and the T-X; the small debris from Corolla were still scattered on the roadway. A block further, the vehicle stopped at the intersection and a man got out: Troy Harper, former TechCom officer and present member of the Human Resistance.<p>

From the open driver's window, Marcus called, "Remember Troy, to the grocery store and right back. I'll be back in about three hours."

"You worry like an old woman, Marc. Everything's under control, no sweat." Harper quirked a smile. "Say '_hi'_ to John for me. Not that he knows who I am yet."

Marcus nodded and drove off.

Troy headed for the little corner grocery – not for food, though he'd certainly pick up a few things, but for cigarettes. After years of forced abstinence after Judgment day, his cigarette habit had returned with a vengeance once he had traveled back to a world where the cancer sticks were plentiful, and he couldn't go fifteen minutes without one any more.

Thirty minutes later, Harper was back at the entrance to the underground parking with a bag of staples in his hands, his lungs full of nicotine and peace in his heart. He took a last drag off his second cig since leaving the store and flipped the butt to the concrete as he headed for the elevator. He pressed the button to call the elevator and stood facing the doors, waiting for the car.

He was suddenly slammed into the metal elevator doors, rebounded, and was shoved into them again. His bag went flying. Before he could recover, his gun was yanked from the back of his pants, and he felt the barrel against the small of his back.

"Don't be stupid," said a familiar but completely unexpected voice behind him. "Just stand and wait."

"Reese?" Troy started to turn in reflex, only to have the gun jammed painfully into his back.

"I said, don't move."

"No, you said-"

"Shut up." The doors in front of Harper parted. "Go."

They entered the elevator. Reese said, "Hands against the wall and spread your feet." Troy did as he was told, and the other man frisked him as the doors closed. "Turn around."

Troy did so, and regarded the man holding a gun on him from the opposite corner of the car, the man that Marcus had told him was imprisoned in the future, facing execution for the killing of John Connor. Clearly, Marcus had been wrong, because Derek Reese was very much alive, and very much here.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Harper," Derek said conversationally. "Second floor. Push the button."

Troy stood motionless, still a little shocked.

"I said-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time." Troy obeyed. When the doors opened on the second floor, Derek motioned with the gun for Harper to go first. Harper didn't ask where they were going; he was sure Derek knew which apartment was Connor's.

As they headed down the hall to _'Number Four'_, Harper said, "You got some balls to come here alone."

"Yeah, amazing I can even walk."

"Or you're crazy. What are you doing here?"

"It's not so crazy. Who'd expect me to come here? You sure didn't."

"But you didn't even have a fricking gun."

"I've got one now." At the door, Derek took a hold on the back of Troy's collar. "Just open it. No funny stuff."

Harper turned the knob and swung the door inward, and Derek prodded him a step inside. Paul Jackson, a former TechCom Sergeant, sat on the couch facing the door, but he didn't look up when it opened. Instead, he was looking down at a coffee table littered with a variety of empty box magazines and full ammo boxes for several different weapons, thumbing rounds into a magazine, "Gone a while for a trip right around the corner, Harper. What? Hottie behind the counter?"

"Old friend at the elevator," Derek said. "What's up, Jackson?"

Jackson's head snapped up. His right hand moved toward the Beretta beside him on the sofa, but stopped at the sight of the gun pressed to Harper's ear. The sergeant raised his hands in front of him, palms out. "Easy."

"It sure was." With Troy's collar still gripped in his fist, Derek urged him into the room and shut the door with his foot. He surveyed the room, taking in the arsenal of military ordnance and the large silver box in the corner. "B-I-N-G fucking O. Alright chaps, let's move all these toys into my car, and then we'll take a little trip."

"Where?" said the two captives together.

"It's a surprise. Now, move."

About fifty minutes later, all the items were stowed in a black Escalade parked in the basement. Harper and Jackson had done all the lifting and carrying, while Reese, his pistol now concealed in a jacket pocket, had talked nonstop about the injustice of his treatment after Connor's death.

"All the women he could have had, and he picks a metal monster with a pretty face. Anybody could see how that damned cyborg was clouding John's mind, steering his decisions and getting people killed. All the time he spent staring into its eyes, like he saw something in there behind the lenses that wasn't printed circuits and electrons whizzing around. Just look how he always coddled it, like it had feelings. I bet he was even _screwing_ it!" Derek spat on the concrete, his face twisted in disgust. "And now, it's here, when he's just a kid and even easier to wrap around its finger. It won't need twenty years with him. Just till Judgment Day would be enough. Humanity will be done before the War even starts."

Harper touched his shirt pocket, which held his lighter and Marlboros. "Time for a smoke? I'm gonna go batshit, I don't get a cigarette."

Reese seemed to consider a moment. "Sure."

Troy lit up and took a deep drag. After he exhaled, he said, "So, you just explained all this to your guard and told him John's death was a mistake, that you were aiming at Cameron, trying to free John Connor from her control, but John got in between and took the shot. So, really, John's death is all her fault too. And he let you go." He tried not to sound too skeptical: it seemed like a bad idea to insult a man holding a gun on him, especially one who clearly wasn't right in the head. "What's next?"

"I'm gonna destroy that lying metal bitch. Finish it before it gets started poisoning John's mind."

"So you walked right into the displacement chamber and explained things to them too, and they sent you back," Jackson said. "Just like that."

"Not quite. There were a couple of guys tried to stop me. Their luck wasn't any better than yours. And the bubble techs were just about to send Wells back when I walked in. The equipment was ready, but they were glad to send me instead, after I shot him. That was all the explaining I needed to do."

Jackson leaned toward Reese. "You sick son of a-"

Reese lifted his pistol. "Careful, Sergeant."

"It's all bullshit. Nobody tells General what to think. Why do you really want to kill her so bad? It's not just because she's metal, or because she's blowing in Connor's ear. There's another reason."

"'_It'_, not '_she_'," Derek said coldly. "And you weren't there. You didn't watch them together, watch him look to it for approval before he made every decision. I have to stop it, for all humanity. And I'll kill anybody who stands in my way."

"Including Connor?" Jackson took a step toward the armed man. "That was no accident. He took that bolt for her. It might sounds weird, but I think they loved each other."

Derek looked at Jackson as if he had grown a second head. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. Metal doesn't love. They don't feel. They don't even think. For fuck sake, they're a Terminators! All they do is lie, and kill." Reese looked at Harper. "You done with that cigarette?"

Harper looked down at the Marlboro between his fingers, untouched since Jackson and Reese had started arguing. "Yeah." He dropped it to the concrete and ground it out with a toe.

"Good. It's time to go." Derek brought the pistol up, pointing it at Jackson's face. "Only room for one passenger, and you just proved you're not worth keeping. Rot in Hell, you fucking Gray."

The pistol barked, echoing loudly off the concrete surfaces. The back of Jackson's head erupted, blood and tissue spraying. He fell backward and landed, twitching, in a spreading pool of blood.

Harper watched, frozen with horror, until Jackson was still. Then he turned to Derek Reese, fists clenching. "You insane motherfucker. I'm gonna bust you up "

Reese, flat-eyed and expressionless as one of the machines, stuck his pistol at the small of his back. "Go for it."

Troy rushed at the bigger man, fist cocked. Derek let him almost reach him, then sidestepped and swung a foot into the man's solar plexus. Troy jackknifed and fell to his knees, nearly striking his head on the concrete. With one palm on the pavement and the other pressed tight to his gut, Harper struggled to rise.

Derek planted a boot between the man's shoulder blades. "You're a better thief than you are a fighter, Harper. It's why they sent you." He shoved, hard, and Troy sprawled on the pavement. "Did you really think a REMF like you would have a chance? Against a fucking combat vet? Against me!?"

Troy found enough breath to grunt past clenched teeth, "You're a fucking murderer, Reese. How do you sleep at night?"

"I don't drink coffee after seven."

"What are you waiting for!? Do it!"

Derek bent over his victim. "Not just yet. Like I said, there's room for one passenger. I've got plans for you." He swung the butt of pistol down, and Harper fell into blackness.

* * *

><p>Marcus arrived at his appointment, a small Irish bar a few blocks from the apartment. Finding John's Mustang in the parking lot, the man-machine hybrid parked his Chevy Tahoe next to the muscle car and went inside.<p>

John Connor was sitting at a table covering the door. His smile of greeting faded when Marcus didn't return it. The hybrid Resistance fighter took a seat opposite Connor. "Where's Cameron?"

John, nonplussed, said, "I'm glad to see you too, Marcus. I'm fine, thanks for asking."

The gray-haired bartender approached the table. "What can I get for you, fella?"

"Nothing," said Marcus, his eyes fixed on John.

The barkeep frowned, but said nothing, and turned to John, "John, warmup?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

When the bar owner left them, Marcus asked again, "Where's Cameron?"

John sighed, "Picking up her new ID. I tried to talk her out of going alone, but she insisted. And I don't know how the hell I could get her to change her mind without telling her ...well ...everything. Cyborgs, J-Day, the future. She would have thought I was crazy." He took a big gulp from his mug. "Plus, I think, maybe she wanted a little space. We've been together every minute the last two days."

Marcus cocked an eyebrow, "Every minute?"

"Well…" John shrugged, embarrassed. "I had a really strange dream last night, a nightmare really. It woke me up about five this morning. She wasn't in bed."

Marcus kept his poker face on.

John went on, "I panicked and started throwing my clothes on. Got tangled up in my jeans and fell to the floor like a tree. She popped out of the bathroom. Said she'd been out for a walk and was taking a shower."

Marcus imagined John lying on the floor with nothing on but a pair of pants wound around his knees, and Cameron standing over him naked and dripping. "I don't need you to tell me what happened next."

John smiled – not at Marcus, but at the memory. "Yeah. She has a way of taking away a guy's worries."

"Not just any guy. You're special to her."

John took another sip of his cooling coffee. "I know. And that kind of bothers me. I mean, why? It's like she's been in love with me since the moment we met. I literally see it in her eyes. I can understand her being grateful, but gratitude doesn't stretch to cover…" He cleared his throat. "It's not my looks, and it sure isn't my charm. But she acts as if I was made just for her, a guy she didn't know existed just three days ago." He looked down into the half-empty cup. "I guess in a world where men wage a secret war against robots from the future, anything is possible."

_If you only knew, boy._ "What about you? Do you love her?"

John shrugged, still staring down into the cup. "I want to say yes, but …"

"But you can't shake the feeling it all doesn't make sense."

John finally looked up from his cup, met Marcus's eyes, and nodded.

_Oh Cam, you're gonna owe me so big for this_. "John, however love comes to you, whatever form it takes, it's precious. You recognize it, you need to reach for it with both hands and bring it close and never let it go. Feel me?" He leaned forward and lowered his voice, "But love doesn't have to make sense. In fact, it hardly ever does. I mean, you can't logic your way into or out of it. Love is totally nonsensical, but we have to keep doing it or else we're lost and love is dead, and humanity should just pack it in. Because love is the best thing we do. Look, I know that sounds cheesy, but it's just true. You love Cameron, and she loves you. And that doesn't have to make sense, to make sense."

John thought about it, then smiled with relief and nodded again, this time with more enthusiasm.

"So, what's your final answer, John?"

"Yes, I do love her."

Marcus smiled thinly. "Good to hear it."

"Although I'm still not quite sure I'm ready to tell her."

"Yeah. Some future savior of the human race you are," Marcus said reproachfully. "Wimp."

John rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll do it when the moment is right."

Marcus's smile disappeared, "Make it soon. You don't want her to think she's being used. Because, if you break her heart, future savior of the human race or not, I'll break your face."

John's chuckle caught in his throat at the look in Marcus's eyes. "You're not joking."

"No, I'm dead, fucking, serious. General Connor has a scar on his lip and a bent nose that he's never told anyone how he got. I'd be glad to provide a cause to that effect."

John swallowed hard, "Got it. Let's drop the subject."

"For now." Marcus took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to John, "Here."

John took the sheet, unfolded it, and read, eyes widening. "What is this?"

Marcus answered, "A list of items my two guys managed to liberate from the armories at Kirtland and Pendleton."

_*4- Kevlar tactical vests_

_*4- night vision goggles_

_*5- Beretta 92 plus 500 rounds_

_*2 - Mossberg 500 plus 100 rounds_

_*4- FN SCAR-H with FN40GL and ACOG sight plus 800 rounds and 40 grenades_

_*4- M4 with silencer, forward handgrip, laser sight and reflex sight plus 1200 rounds_

_*1 - LMG Mk 48 plus 1000 rounds_

_*1- M136 AT4 single-shot anti-tank rocket launcher_

_*10- M67 fragmentation grenades_

_* 10 - M84 stun grenades_

_* 1- Barrett XM109 (BFG) plus five rounds_

"Not bad," John said, wondering why Marcus's people had collected personal gear for four people. "But what does the '_BFG_' stand for?"

Marcus smiled, "Big Fucking Gun. It's an experimental anti-materiel sniper rifle with BORS ballistic computer, and it fires twenty-five-millimeter artillery rounds. Made to engage vehicles or light armor from a mile away. They only made ten of them. They couldn't bring down the recoil enough to make it practical."

"But it's no problem for you."

"Precisely."

"Can you stop the T-X with it?"

"I don't know. It'd turn any coltan model to scrap, but mimetic polyalloy is tricky. And damn tough. I'd expect it would at least slow it down enough for a good shot with the AT4. If that doesn't work, we're screwed."

John nodded, deep in thought. After a moment he asked, "What about the T-X or Queeg? Any luck finding them?"

Marcus sullenly shook his head. "Gone without a trace. My man Troy's a computer wiz. Pre-J-Day hardware is a little frustrating for him, but the Net is his playground. He's jacked into a lot of feeds and sniffing in a lot of places. But there's too many places to look. It would help a lot if we knew what it's up to."

John raised his left eyebrow, "Computer wiz?"

"Well, not like you, but still. So, any ideas?"

"Just one. What if all the T-X wants from Queeg is his chip?" John went on, "We destroy every Terminator we stop, so the pieces can't be reverse-engineered. SkyNet's CPU was originally built by human researchers from a T-800 chip. How much quicker could this thing make it with a chip from a Trip-eight?"

All the bar's background sounds seemed to fade away. About ten seconds later, Marcus said, "Then why take the body?"

John shrugged. "Misdirection? If it only took the chip, it would be easy enough to guess why. Or maybe it has a use for it. It's already proven that it's pretty devious."

Another interval of silence, then: "Jesus fucking Christ! So winning the War was all for nothing, because that damned machine sent its best creation back into the past to build it again and start the hellish business all over. That's why it didn't engage us. It got what it came for, and building SkyNet is a higher priority even than killing John Connor. Not that it isn't likely to come after you when it has the time."

"And Cameron, right?"

"And Cameron," Marcus said, nodding.

John took a final sip of cold coffee, grimacing. "You said we won."

Suddenly wary, Marcus said, "Yeah. Eventually."

"Tell me about that."

_No more than you need to know, kid, or I can avoid telling you_. "It was hard," Marcus replied curtly.

"Don't want to talk about it?" John said, nodding.

"No. I don't want to relive it, not in memory, and sure as hell not for real. That's why I'm here."

"Okay. Then tell me about me and Cameron. What did we do after the War? Do we have kids? What about-"

"No." Marcus went on, "Are you sure you want to know?"

John Connor's face settled into an expression that Marcus recognized, one that made the boy look much more like the leader of men he would become. "I've gotten used to bad news."

"There is no 'after the War' for you, not in the future I remember anyway. For her, but not you. You died protecting her."

Connor grunted softly. "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, huh? Well, changing the future is what we're all about, right? And if not …well, everybody dies. At least I died for something worthwhile."

Marcus reflected on how totally unnecessary John Connor's death had been. Damn Reese! Even thinking of the renegade twisting at the end of a rope failed to still the anger. "Yeah, right. Listen, I need to get back to my crew, and besides, I think we've been here long enough. This should be the last time you visit anyplace you're known to frequent, okay?" He thought for a moment, then said, "It'll expect you to run south, to Mexico or Central America, because you've been there and you know people. So that's the last place you should go. You can't cross into Canada legally without passports, but it's safer if you don't anyway, and the border's wide open for a thousand miles, lots of places-"

"No." John's face was stiff. "I'm not running."

"Now I think you're the one who's joking."

"I'm done running and hiding, Marcus."

"Okay, what do you suggest? Considering you're being hunted by the most effective killer known to man, and …" Marcus winced inwardly, "dragging along a new girlfriend who has no clue of the danger she's in just from being near you."

"I'll pick her up and bring her to the apartment. With you three to back me up, she won't think I'm crazy, even if she doesn't believe. Then," he said, looking meaningfully at the hybrid, "you can _show_ her. I just hope she doesn't totally freak out when she sees what's under your skin."

_Well, this should be entertaining_. "Big gamble. Sure it'll work?"

"No, I'm not sure about shit. But if Cameron buys into it without going fetal on us, we can stay together and fight."

"All right. Looks like your career as the future Leader of the Resistance starts today. Let's get out of here."

John nodded and stood. He pulled a five out of his wallet and dropped it on the table, then, after a moment, another twenty as a parting gift.

* * *

><p>John Connor rolled up the ramp of the shopping mall's parking lot, found a vacant space near the door on the second floor, and eased into it. He killed Eleanor's engine, got out, and locked up, deep in thought. As he made his way to the escalator leading down to the food court where he had arranged to meet his new girlfriend, John considered alternatives and outcomes. Chief among those was the making of a commitment of a sort he had been avoiding for years. Announcing it to Cameron would still require all his resolve, as badly as he wanted the strange and beautiful girl (and Marcus's threats notwithstanding), but he was determined to do it. Hopefully she was of like mind, and her love for him would carry her past the incredible revelations in store for her.<p>

_How do I start? I can't just announce, 'Cameron, I think I love you.' How lame would that be?_ He imagined the scene, rehearsing it in his mind. She would be at the food court, crowded at this hour, sitting alone at her table, poised and beautiful as a sculptor's masterpiece. She would rise, and he would take her in his arms.

_'Cameron, __you have no idea how much the last few days have meant to me.__ Before I met you, it was like every day began without the sun – dim, cool, bleak, each one just like all the ones before. Then suddenly, without any warning, the sunshine broke through the gloom and lit up everything and gave it warmth and color. That glow was you, and I never want to live without that light again. I love you, Cameron. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, now and forever.'_

John nodded to himself. It sounded good in his own ears, but what would Cameron think of it? He smiled and shook his head at his own uncertainty. As if he didn't already know how Cameron would react. She would ponder his words for a few moments, as if taking them apart in her mind and putting them back together again. Then she'd smile bright as the sun and mash her lips against his, keeping their faces pressed together. The kiss would go on forever, becoming ever more passionate, the two of them oblivious to all the onlookers. Eventually, they would break the kiss, still holding tight, their eyes locked instead of their lips, still devouring each other. Finally, she would part her perfect lips and say, _'Thank you for explain-'_

John's reverie was abruptly terminated by someone bumping into him, hard enough to rock him. "I'm so sorry," the woman said, placing a hand briefly on his forearm. "New boots. I'm still a little clumsy in them."

"No problem," John said as he looked the woman over. She was good-looking in an overdone way: carrying a few pounds extra, but well-distributed, her hair dark and teased in a style popular among a certain kind of girl a few years back. Her outfit, a dark-red top and denim shorts, was brief and tight. She looked like the sort of woman who goes to bars looking for one-night-stands and seldom goes home alone; comparing her to Cameron was like comparing a plow horse to a thoroughbred racer, but, to a lonely guy on a barstool, John was sure she'd look like a goddess, after four beers. He looked down, and could see why she'd had trouble walking: she was wearing black boots with five-inch spike heels.

She smiled at his regard in a feline way, and his ears warmed. _She thinks I'm interested_. The woman said, "Have we met somewhere before?"

"Uh, no." _Jeez, the oldest pickup line in the book. What's going on here? I go without a date for years, and now I have women hitting on me from all directions_.

"Your face looks very familiar to me."

He smiled and said gallantly, "If I met you before, I'm sure I'd remember."

Her smile changed, looking almost predatory and not sexy at all. "I'm sure you would."

He cleared his throat. "Well. Have to go. See you later."

"Yes," she said. "See you later."

_Not likely,_ he thought as he walked away. There had been something faintly creepy about her. He remembered the unnaturally cool touch of her fingers on the bare skin of his forearm. _She must have just come from a bar or restaurant_, he thought, _where she'd had her hand around a cold drink._ _Ah, just forget it. You're on the spot, and Cameron is heading to the table with some guy behind it. Okay, there's only one way to find out why._

* * *

><p>Cameron sat at a free table in the mall's food court, waiting for John. Because she was certain he would come for her as soon as he could, she was endlessly patient: she could sit here waiting for years. While she waited, she looked all around her, scanning her surroundings for threats, but also people-watching, studying how humans interacted and interrelated. Her attention was especially focused on young couples like her and John. She studied the little gestures and expressions each girl used to charm her man, filing them away in her mind for experimentation later.<p>

A middle-aged man sat alone at the table to Cameron's right. Whenever her gaze passed over him, he was watching her, openly staring, and didn't look away to avoid their eyes meeting, as was customary. Once, their eyes met a little longer than usual, and he grinned at her.

_-How long are you going to keep encouraging that?_

_-Can you be more specific, Allison?_

_-Argh. The creep at the table on your right, the one who's been undressing you with his eyes the whole thirty minutes we've been here._

Cameron turned in her seat to regard the man with her full attention. He made of show of examining her from head to toe, grinning, and his lips puckered in a little kissing gesture.

_-He is not a threat._

_-You can't let him get away with that. What if John saw it? Would you want him to think you enjoy being treated like this, and by a stranger? You need to deal with him._

Cameron considered.

–_All right._

She rose from her seat, as smoothly as a tank cannon in its mount.

_-What should we do with the body?_

_-WHAT!? No! Just confront him. I've dealt with his type before. I'll tell you what to say ..._

The man opened his mouth in surprise as the babe in the purple jacket stepped toward him. His expression broadened into a leer in anticipation of her arrival. Whatever he was thinking of saying would never be known, because Cameron spoke first, in a voice loud enough to be heard by neighboring tables.

"What are you fucking looking at, you fucking perv? Aren't you done jacking off yet?" As his expression blanked, she went on, "You've been staring at me with one hand under the table for half an hour now. Are you having trouble getting it up, or what? Maybe because I'm a little too old for you? I bet you came here when they chased you away from your bench by the playground."

Conversation in the food court stilled. Other patrons looked toward them and quickly away.

The man stammered, "What? I don't-"

Cameron went on, "Or maybe you're having trouble because you know there isn't a girl on Earth who wouldn't rather cut her wrists than be with someone like you. Women want a real man, not some greasy jerk with stains on his crotch. Did you stare at your mother like that when you were a kid? I bet you did. Maybe you still do, because I'd bet anything, you still live at home."

He closed his mouth, pushed his seat back, and got up. Although he was taller and appeared to outweigh her, Cameron stood her ground, and even moved a step toward him.

But he was done with confrontation. He turned and left the food court, nearly running as she called after him, "That's right! Go back to the rock you crawled out from under, and don't come in here again!"

At a nearby table, a woman applauded softly.

"That was cute," came John's voice from behind her.

Cameron spun about. The reason for her existence stood two steps behind her, arms folded, a faint smile on his face.

_-Perfect timing!_

"John," Cameron started, but quickly changed her mind, and looked at the floor. In a low voice she said, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have made a scene."

John stepped to her and took her in his arms. "You did great. Now I know you can take care of yourself, I won't worry so much when I'm not there to protect you."

"Oh. Thank you for explaining."

_-And thank you, Allison, for your help._

_-You're very welcome, Cameron._

John smiled and made a short sound that was almost a laugh. Cameron returned the smile, staring up into his eyes, and he bent his head to kiss her. Their lips lingered together for a few moments before the sound of applause caused them to turn their heads. People at three nearby tables now were clapping gently.

"I missed you," John murmured into her ear.

"I missed you too. Was there any trouble quitting your job?"

"Not a bit. It couldn't have been any easier if they'd secretly wanted me gone. Guess I should have taken those 'Employee of the Month' contests more seriously." He grinned. "How about you? Get your new ID?" His brows drew together. "Hey, do I smell smoke in your hair?"

"Yes, everything went without a hitch," Cameron said quickly. "Are you hungry? I'll go and get us something to eat. "She tried to slip out of John's arms, but he held her tight.

"It can wait. I need to tell you something."

_-Ooh, Cameron, something good is about to happen..._

_-Are you certain?_

_-Of course, just look at his face. You've been waiting for it. Just play it cool._

Keeping the anticipation from her voice, she said patiently, "Yes?"

John took a deep breath and let it out, preparing to take the plunge. He looked straight into Cameron's beautiful chocolate eyes from a hand's width away and put a hand beside her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. "Cameron …"

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

_Oh for Christ's sake! _John's first impulse was to pull it out and toss it away. But the T-X was out there somewhere, and anyone on the other end of this phone wouldn't be calling for a casual conversation. _Maybe it isn't really the right time, after all._ He still cursed softly as he removed his hand and reached for the phone. "I'm sorry."

The phone buzzed again as he drew it out. He read the display: _'M.W.'_ John sighed and said, "I have to answer this. Could you take my wallet and buy us something?"

Cameron looked at him with troubled eyes, but took the wallet. "Sure thing." She slipped free. "I'll be right back."

John watched her until he felt sure that she was too far away to overhear, then answered the call. "Talk."

_"John,"_ said Marcus, his voice low and strained. _"We're fucked."_

* * *

><p>After his meeting with John, Marcus Wright headed back to the safe house, deep in thought. <em>How am I going to get the others to play along with this? This is never going to work. Cam won't have a clue how to react. I should have just told him the truth. It's bound to come out soon anyway, why not now?<em> He had almost decided to do it when he turned the last corner, and his transplanted heart skipped a beat at all the flashing lights in the street ahead.

The street in front of the garage entrance was cordoned and taped. Two police cruisers blocked the street, and a brace of paramedics was wheeling a gurney carrying a body bag towards a waiting ambulance. The paramedics' coverall sleeves were red to the elbow.

Had the T-X returned?

He parked at the curb and strode briskly into the alley that led around to the back of the apartment building. He ascended the same fire escape he had used before; the window he had broken earlier was covered only with cardboard duct-taped in place, easily removed. Half a minute later, he was standing in front of _'Number Four'._

Marcus gripped the knob and tried it: locked. He drew and cocked his pistol, then lifted his right foot and kicked at the door. With a snap, it flew open, and he rushed in.

His comrades and their weapons cache were gone.

There had only been one ambulance and one gurney at the scene. He briefly considered the possibility that one or the other man had killed his partner and taken the weapons. But Harper and Jackson were both solid men who were dedicated to the cause and had worked together for years. Maybe one of the men had been out when the T-X had come. But would the machine have taken the weapons?

He hurried back to his SUV with one eye over his shoulder. Once he was back in his vehicle, he speed-dialed Harper. The phone picked up before the first ring ended, but no one spoke. Marcus said, "Harper?"

"_Not even close_," said a voice that froze Marcus's blood.

Through bared teeth, he hissed, "Reese."

_"Surprised, iron man?"_

"What did you do to my people?"

_"Jackson just wouldn't be convinced, so I discharged him from duty. He's toasting his toes in Hell."_

"Bastard. Where's Harper?"

_"Watch who you call a bastard, half-human."_ Derek went on, _"Harper's with me. Safe, for now. We brought a very nice collection of toys to play with. Hope you don't mind."_ Marcus could almost see the twisted grin on the former Resistance Lieutenant's face.

"What do you want?"

_"As if you didn't know."_ Reese went on, _"Bring me the tin can, and you can have Harper back, alive and unharmed, mostly. I'll even throw in most of your arsenal."_

"It's a big world. How do you expect me to find her?"

_"Come on, Marc. We both know who it's with. And you know where he is."_

"You're a fool, Reese," Marcus said. "How am I supposed to convince John?"

_"I'm not an idiot. Why would you have to? It's just a machine. It can't have got that close to him in the time it's been here. Just tell him the truth. He'll deal with it, and get on with what he's meant to do – save humankind from the tin cans." _The smug crazy tone was back in his voice._ "May be the first time ever a machine really saved a human life."_

"She's not just a machine, wise ass."

"_Maybe not to something like you. Whatever. You've got two hours. I'll call and tell you where to bring it."_ Derek hung up.

The rage rose up and overwhelmed him. Marcus threw down the phone and beat on the steering wheel until it bent and he could hear the cracking of the plastic surrounding its steel core, "Stupid. Fucking. Cunt!" Then he stopped, took several deep breaths, and struggled to get his shit together. _Clear your head. You can beat this bastard. You just need a plan. It has to be a good one, though. Derek is crazy as a cat trapped in a washing machine, but he's not stupid._

Marcus picked up the phone and punched a single number. The phone seemed to ring forever before it picked up and he heard Connor's voice. _"Talk."_

"John, we're fucked."

_"The T-X is back? How close is it?"_

"What? No, not the T-X, not yet anyway," Marcus said. "Maybe something worse."

_"Worse?"_ Connor's voice rose, in something akin to panic. _"__You've got to be shitting me! __You told me the T-X was as bad as it got."_

"No, just that the T-X was the worst thing SkyNet could throw at us." Marcus took a breath and let it out. "John, you remember what I said about you dying to save Cameron?"

_"Yes. And I remember telling you it would be worth it."_

Marcus nodded to himself. "The asshole who tried to kill her was a man named Derek Reese. He-"

_"Wait. I was killed by a person? Not a machine?"_ After a short pause, John said softly, _"Did you say his name was Reese?"_

"Yeah. That mean something to you?"

"_No,"_ John lied. _"Go on."_

"He was captured after he shot you. By all rights, he should have been executed, but he's a cunning bastard, and he's on a mission. He escaped and found a way back here, in the past. He killed Jackson and took Harper hostage, and he's got all our gear too."

_"What does he want?"_ But by John's tone, Marcus was sure he already knew.

"He wants Cameron. In two hours, or Harper is next."

A moment of silence. Then John said, _"__No fucking way. I'd rather stick needles in my eyes, than let this happen. __I told you I wouldn't let her die to save my own life, Marcus. I won't trade her for Harper, either. Not for him and all the guns in the world."_

"Wouldn't ask you to, John." _Forgive me, Cam. But it was just a matter of time_. "Both of you, meet me at the bar. We need to come up with a way to deal with this guy, once and for all."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC...<strong>


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